Les Rêves des Amoureux Sont Comme le Bon Vin
by dahliadenoire
Summary: AU/Paris. Lavi/Kanda. Lavi liked to compare Kanda with a l'omelette lyonnaise. It's bland at first, but kind of sweet because of the red onions and wine vinegar. Kanda liked to compare Lavi with a glass of Robert Mondavi Pinot Noir. A day without it is like a day without sunshine.
1. Soupe à l'Oignon

_**Les Rêves des Amoureux Sont Comme le Bon Vin**_

* * *

**Recipe One**

**January**

_**"Soupe à l'Oignon"**_

* * *

_**Ingredients:**_

_5 pounds onions, preferably red_

_4 tablespoons butter_

_10 cups beef, turkey, or chicken broth_

_1 medium-size bouquet garni_

_1 pinch salt and pepper_

_4 cups 6-inch cubes cut from crusty slices of French bread, preferably sourdough_

_25 cups finely grated Swiss Gruyère or other full-flavored firm cheese_

* * *

_At first glance, the outside looked as if it was already spring. _Two men were handling shovels and getting rid of the snow that had gathered on the front porch of the university. It had been a murderous winter for the past few weeks yet Kanda seemed unaffected by it. He was fond of the cold season. If it was possible, he'd choose to live in a country where winter was a perpetual season. It wasn't because he liked the holidays or excessive celebrations; he just hated warm weather and being exposed to the sun or being covered in sweat. He often thought he was the only one who enjoyed the cold as he observed his classmates inside the room covered in layered, thick, and vibrant sweaters and jackets; almost shivering to the chill as they were mixing ingredients and battering eggs, and cursing out loud about how cold it was.

Kanda Yu stopped looking outside the huge window in the middle of the room and focused on the meal he was preparing. The chef, and also his professor, had ordered them to make soup—any kind of soup. Without much hesitation, the black-haired student quickly thought of French Onion Soup. It was a classic. No one could ever go wrong with onion soup. He started peeling the onions using a Benriner cutter so it would be sliced as thin as it could go. He was ashamed to say that he was fairly sensitive to onions. Every time he would encounter the small vegetable, his translucent blue eyes would tear up, but not to a degree where he would be considered crying. His uncle, a Frenchman, found his little weakness cute and he would always suggest to put chunks of onions on top of his head. It was more of a Hispanic belief, but his uncle assured him it was capable of stopping one from crying. Then again, that was just a myth. Kanda had a trick of his own. Before he would chop those wretched onions, he would first keep them in the freezer for a few minutes. He had no idea how it worked, but he knew that it was better than putting them on his head.

The hardest part was caramelizing the onions. The steam that came out from the heavy-bottomed pot got him tearing up. The mountain of onions became lazy, brown laces and blended so beautifully when the broth was mixed in. Several minutes more and it was done.

The spacious, frigid food laboratory was starting to heat up by the time Kanda had finished throwing toasted bread cubes among the soup-filled crocks. The room soon let loose mixed scents of bay leaves, cilantro, rosemary and cinnamon due to the several students' diversity of meals. On Kanda's left, there was a couple cooking Oxtail soup; on the other direction, a young woman, boiling an effortless Cocoa soup. The chef soon shouted to gain the attention of the students and began grading their finished product by going over to their counters one by one. With restrained anger, Kanda couldn't talk back when he received a grade that was less than _magnifique_, which was always his professor's usual comment on his food. Chefs knew him to be an outstanding student chef. He seldom received an average grade. The only time he got a low score was his first day of cooking school. Kanda watched as the chef moved on to one student to another, trying his hardest to hide his irritation.

_That afternoon, he left the campus dismayed and restless_. He wasn't sure why but he knew for sure that his meal was far better than the disheveled Oxtail soup or the mediocre Cocoa. Careful not to slip, he dragged his cold feet on the snow-covered ground, heading to the St Germain des Pres. He stopped in front of a coffee shop—a small café with a somewhat film noir feel to it. It was far from the usual Parisian chic as the vintage sign saying "_Le Gris Cafe" _hung high above the doorway. The caff was a favorite of the locals and a refuge for tourists. The well-dressed staff was intimidating but hospitable and was capable of speaking fluent English, making it such a big plus for tourists.

A bell rang, a sign that someone entered, and as soon as Kanda stepped on the wooden pavements of the room, a young lady emerged from back and smiled at him familiarly. He replied a small gesture of nodding his head once and seated himself on a comfortable chair by the window. It was his usual place and his lady friend had always assured that that certain table would be available by that certain time in the afternoon. Walls splashed with glass and old-fashioned motifs filled his sight. Together with the moody lighting was hearty jazz music and beautiful moulded ceilings. It let off a cozy atmosphere, perfect to get soaked up with relaxation.

The same girl approached him, not bothering to get a menu for him. "What would you like for today?" she asked, her cheerful smile not waning as she held a notepad between her hands. "Black tea. You already know that." He replied dryly, taking off his coat as he had forgotten to before he came in.

"I know. It's just fun to say that." She giggled before she checked her watch. "By the way, I'll be having a couple of days off next week, so you won't be seeing me much in the afternoon. I worked my butt off during the holidays and I convinced my brother to let me off the shift during the afternoon."

"Aren't you people already short on staff?"

"Yeah. But we found a guy who needed a part-time job last week. I hear he's the grandson of one of the cafe's creditors."

"I never see him."

"That's because he's working at the back. By the time I leave the afternoon shift, he'll be the one waiting tables." She paused for awhile and smiled wider, "He's really cute, but not really my type. He hit on me when we first met but he's really funny. I guess he's pretty smart too."

"Lenalee. I don't care less about the new guy. Just get me my tea already."

"Someone had a bad day." Lenalee was used to the man's grumpiness and retorts so she only chuckled. "Bet the chef gave you a 3 out of 5."

Kanda glared at her.

"Oh dear, I'm right. Looks like I need to get you that tea quick." The girl said with a slight laugh and disappeared into the kitchen.

The long-haired student sighed, putting his palms on his forehead. He was slowly catching a headache and Lenalee's ramblings didn't do it any better. He watched her as she waited other tables after bringing his order to the kitchen, her long hair tied to twin ponytails on either side of her head as the dim golden ceiling lamp shone perfectly on her, emphasizing her mauve highlights. She was the sister of the café owner and had been a regular in the place since she was young. They had met only when they were just children since Tiedoll, his uncle, was a good friend of Lenalee's brother. She was a vibrant girl, cheerful, but only to a certain extent. Her brother, however, was the very opposite of her. Kanda always thought of him as a maniac who had an unhealthy obsession with his sister. There was also a rumor he was a prolific inventor of perfectly useless things.

The thought of him made Kanda's headache worse. Lenalee approached him again, this time holding a tray with a cup of tea on it and a piece of _bruschetta _to compliment the beverage. "Here you go."

Kanda looked at it with dislike. "I didn't say Chamomile."

"I thought you could use some. You should relax more and stop drinking those black tea and coffee. They're not as healthy as other tea, you know."

"You shouldn't lecture me about food."

"I know a little about food, too." The girl pouted as she set a napkin on the table. "Maybe not as much as you do, but I've been working here long enough to know the effects of different kinds of tea. And Lavi is always teaching me new stuff about food, too! I can't really say he _knows_ how to cook, but he's really—"

"Who's that?"

"Who's who?"

"Lavi."

"Oh! He's the new guy." She smiled when she remembered something. "Did I mention he memorized the menu just by looking at it?"

"He sounds like a weirdo."

"You're one to talk." He looked at her with a raised brow, "I'm kidding. But boy, you should loosen up a bit. The winter is making you even colder." She threw him one last shaft of her untiring smile before turning around and heading back to the kitchen.

Kanda looked at his cup and sniffed the aroma. He had always liked the smell of tea, especially Oolong and any kind of black tea but this seemed to be an exception. The Chamomile tea smelled sweet, almost lemony, that he could still smell the herb itself. It was too saccharine for his nose and he felt like it wasn't a very suitable tea for wintertime. Yet with the unpleasant aroma, he took a sip and relaxed on his chair. Well, surely it didn't taste bad. His head turned to his side towards the window and watched as people in heavy clothing walk on the streets. He enjoyed doing this every afternoon, so much that he would never fail to stop by the coffee shop to get at least a cup of tea—any kind as long as it wasn't coffee. He'd sometimes order some wine, but only on warm, spring days. And from time to time, when his schedule had afternoon classes instead of early morning lectures, he would then drop by the shop early in the morning, still with the same order.

_It was five in the afternoon on the following week_ when Kanda entered the café with no sign of Lenalee and guessed that it was the start of her slacking-offs, or rather, day-offs. He sat down as usual, took off his coat and let down his long wet hair, due to the snow, to dry up. He relaxed his shoulders and slumped down on the soft chair. Unfortunately, his peace and quiet was short-lived, for the very next minute, an unfamiliar waiter appeared by his table wearing a black apron over a slightly darker sweatshirt with the nameplate pinned to his left torso that read, '_Lavi'_. Unlike the other well-dressed waiters, this one seemed to be an exception. The girl had always talked about him whenever he would take Kanda's order and it intrigued him what the new guy was really like. Was he as cool as Lenalee mentioned him to be? He still wasn't sure but there was one thing he did know just by looking—that the new guy looked like a complete moron.

"So, what would the pretty lady like this afternoon?"

And just like a steaming hot pot, Kanda's face heated out of anger and snapped. He really must be new. The upset boy lifted himself off his seat and grabbed the offender by the collar, and made sure his grip was tight and rough enough to be painful. The waiter was just surprised by the gesture and quickly clutched Kanda's arms in reflex, to at least loosen the tight grip. He was taller but that didn't stop Kanda from hissing at him like a venomous snake.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" the surprised one exclaimed, his eye scanning the surroundings, a little grateful that there were only two customers in the room; the one didn't care while the other watched intently at the uproar. The grip was too unpleasant and the waiter exerted force, managing to completely push him away. "What the hell's wrong with you?" he shouted, gasping for air.

"Say that again and I'll fucking cut your head off with a butcher knife."

"Say what again?" Kanda waited and forced himself to calm down. He sat down once more. The other man then blinked his one eye, a black eyepatch covering the right eye for reasons Kanda had no intention of knowing. Lavi blinked twice. Then, the one-eyed man's expression changed drastically. "H-Holy shit… you're a _dude_? But you're so pretty!" His face showed obvious disappointment.

Kanda threw him nothing but a glare, his blue eyes shining with irritation. He began to imagine seven different ways on how to kill this man in front of him. He also began to despise that red-orange hair of his. "Watch your mouth, you stupid little shit."

Lavi was taken aback by such vulgar words. Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, he said, "B-B-But, Lenalee told me you're a girl! And, man, was I so convinced since, well, you _are_ really pretty…"

The things Lenalee told Kanda about him were awfully contradictory. He was definitely not funny and most definitely not smart. Though he couldn't lie when he thought that the redhead was, at any rate, appealing which compensated for his stupidity at the very least. Lavi had somewhat this Eurasian features. Kanda kept quiet as he secretly judged the waiter, crossing his arms, apparently waiting for some kind of apology.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? Let's just forget about this and let me take your order."

"Tea."

"What?"

"I said _tea_, idiot."

"Well, sure, let me just brew ya 129 brands of tea," Lavi replied, sarcasm leaking from his voice. Kanda hurled him another menacing glare. "Christ, I was just kidding. I heard ya like black tea, 'kay? Do ya want English, Irish, Scottish, catfish, horseradish or what?"

"Masala Chai."

"Yeah… I think we're out of those—"

"Shut up and get the damn tea."

_For the next three days, Kanda was still frustrated Lenalee wasn't showing up during his afternoons and instead, the sarcastic, stupid, ginger waiter showed up_. He was actually contemplating whether he would still drop by the café after class now that his relaxation sessions were frequently being bombarded by the said waiter who would either hit on him or throw unfunny jokes at him ever-so often. They weren't fighting, nor were they in conflict since Lavi was the only one who threw the insults and Kanda would just threaten to kill him or something similar. However, there was certain Thursday that was different from all the other three days. It wasn't because he ordered coffee instead of tea—mainly because his afternoon class was about tea and he had, perhaps, tasted forty kinds of tea in one day. It was when Kanda's bright blue eyes widened as he watched a certain redheaded waiter sat down on the chair across him, sighing out of exhaustion.

"Get out of my sight," Kanda spat out, resting the cup of coffee on the varnished table.

"It's funny, 'cause I don't know much about ya other than that beautiful face and nasty language of yours." Lavi replied, taking no notice about the vulgar words coming out from the irritated man.

"And you don't have to. Go away."

"So, would you like to have coffee with me sometime?" Lavi asked, again, completely ignoring what Kanda had been saying. And the fact that he looked actually half-serious made Kanda raise a brow.

"I wouldn't go for coffee with an idiot like you."

"_Au_ _contraire, _you already are." His green eye pointed at Kanda's cup of coffee.

Kanda rolled his eyes and decided to pay no heed to the fellow in front of him, imagining the redhead had ceased to exist.

Lavi eyed the man in front of him. He had been exceptionally honest to Lenalee, whom he got along with quite quickly, when he said that he was captivated by the young man. Well, since he initially thought he was a woman but that really didn't stop him. Lavi already knew who Kanda was on his first day, asking Lenalee who the pretty young woman was. And she replied, saying the _pretty young woman_ was a good friend of hers. He wished she would've at least corrected him. But then he realized she might have done that on purpose.

By awesomely failing to get the black-haired man's attention, Kanda had let him sit across him for a while longer to talk. Well, Lavi mostly did the talking as Kanda's replies only consisted of very little—and crude—words.

"What school do you go to?" Lavi asked, munching on Kanda's unattended _couronne_, caring less about what Kanda would say.

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because I know ya go to the one across the block."

Kanda's eyes narrowed. "How the hell did you know that?"

"Because we go to the same university?"

Kanda's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You're lying."

"Nope. I never lie."

He then noticed the ring-shaped bread Lavi was consuming was gone. "You're going to have to get me a new bagel."

"It's a _couronne._"

Kanda, being a culinary arts student, felt slightly offended. "I know what the hell it is," He spat out angrily.

"Alright, alright, don't get mad now." Lavi said lowly, putting his hands up in surrender.

Lavi found out they go to the same university when he saw the school logo stamped on the side of one of Kanda's books. He inquired about the major he was taking. No one could ever make Kanda talk about himself, or talk about anything in general. But nonetheless, Lavi found out they were on separate buildings, much to the redhead's dismay. He could've sworn he saw a look of relief on Kanda's face when he knew about this.

Lavi couldn't hide the fact that he was a tad bit nervous. It was his first time hitting on someone like him—much less on a man. Out of utter nervousness, he didn't know why he kept bragging about the A pluses he got on exams. He would give the same grade to the beautiful creature in front of him, though.

"I believe I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Lavi, a History student working here at this high-paying café to buy a car. Also, because gramps basically threw me in here." He bowed his head while on his seat, acting like a retarded fancy-talking Englishman. And he was very much aware of that. "You?"

Kanda didn't reply, not bothering to say his name.

"Your name. That's all I ask."

"Kanda."

"Kanda?" Lavi repeated and asked, "What about your first name?"

He thought he could fool him into thinking that was his first name by saying it first. The redhead was a little clever, he thought. "I can't find the reason to tell you."

"Well, as far as my lonely eye could see, you are of Japanese descent. While 'Kanda' is an uncommon surname in Japan, and in Asia, it is—"

"I get it, smartass. It's Yu Kanda." Kanda said hesitantly, in order to stop the redhead's persistence.

"I have met only two _Yu'_s in my life and I must say that you are by far prettier."

"Please go to hell."

"How polite of you to say _please_." Lavi decided to stop his fancy talk and became more serious as he found it obvious that the other man was not taking him seriously at all. "What're you taking in university?"

"None of your business." He said, finishing off his cup of coffee before scribbling something on his blue-covered notebook. Lavi couldn't help but feel a little down. For something to get his attention, the redhead grabbed one of his notebooks that were sitting prettily on top of a closed shiny laptop.

"What are you—"

"What is this? Are you taking Home Economics or something?" He scrutinized his notebook while trying to decode the scribbles about shellfish. His handwriting was messy and Lavi honestly expected something better for someone like him. Kanda then snatched the notebook away from Lavi's grasp and put it back where it had originally was. "College of Tourism and Hospitality... Oh! Lemme guess, you're taking Culinary Arts?"

"That wasn't a guess." There was something on his face that said Lavi was right.

"You're right. I knew that all along."

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know another story I'll probably never update until months later. But at least it's almost Christmas break, I promise I'll take time to write down stuff.**

**Reviews, questions, corrections, purple rainbow hippos, anything. I accept them.**

**EDITED THE CHAPTER 2-28-13**


	2. Mousse au Chocolat

_**Les Rêves des Amoureux Sont Comme le Bon Vin**_

* * *

**Recipe Two**

**February**

_**"Mousse au Chocolat"**_

* * *

**Ingredients:**

_6 large eggs_

_2 tablespoons water or coffee_

_1 tablespoon Cognac or any kind of brandy_

_4 tablespoons sugar_

_6 ounces of bittersweet chocolate, chopped coarse_

_4 tablespoons unsalted butter_

_4 teaspoon cream of tartar_

* * *

_It was a cloudy day on the first week of February_. There were layers of snow on the ground but there were none falling from the sky. The frequent blustery weather was unpredictable, especially at late afternoons, but the cold climate didn't stop Kanda from walking to his much beloved café in the middle of Paris.

Other than February being the coldest month, it was a time when Paris was truly serene. The tourists from Christmas had already gone back to their respective homes, making the City of Lights much more spacious than it already was. But what Kanda loved most about the season was the silence. It was hardly ever quiet in the city. There were movie shootings, parades, festivals, concerts, tourists, long lines, and everything was just generally too crowded for his taste. He enjoyed the silence February brought.

But not for too long.

Along with the last several days, Kanda was immediately greeted with a vibrant smile worn by a very vibrant redhead. And that routine didn't stop as Lavi became the regular waiter, and Lenalee preferred being an apprentice cook. Cooking was her hobby, although not entirely her passion, she loved it so much that she was thinking of enrolling in short cooking courses in Le Cordon Bleu. Having said that, she still worked as a waitress. But only during the evenings.

If it weren't for Kanda's affection for food or his history with the café and the people working in it, he probably would have stopped visiting the place. The young man with midnight blue hair sat on his usual place, followed by a man with fiery red hair.

Kanda had been ordering coffee more often. Lavi thought it was because of the weather. He was aware Kanda was more of a tea person, so he couldn't help but wonder.

"So, what does Yu want today?" Lavi asked, now wearing the café's official uniform instead of his casual attire when he first worked there. "You've been shifting between tea and coffee for a while now. What would it be? Black tea? Oolong? Coffee? Or maybe you'd like to have a try of me instead?"

Before Lavi knew it, his right foot was painfully stepped over by leather Christian Louboutin boots.

"T-T-Tea, it is, then," Lavi stammered, still feeling the pain on his foot and wondering how Kanda could be so damn strong. "I'll be right back."

It had been quite easy for Lavi to read Kanda's decisions, especially with his food choices. It wasn't because he was easy to read, quite the opposite, in fact. It became easy for Lavi to memorize his expressions and his every movement. He could say that his frequent staring and pushiness had something to do with it. He couldn't help but gawk at the young man whenever he was there. He was eye-catching, possessing the air of someone different, someone exotic. His face was incredibly hard to forget, Lavi believed.

When he approached Kanda again, he was surprised that Kanda was the one who spoke first.

"Green tea," he asked without a questioning tone, raising a brow. "How did you know I wanted this?"

"A hunch? I dunno." He shrugged his shoulders. "You seem to be in a bad mood and I didn't want to give you coffee. Tea makes you happy, coffee just makes you fucking nervous."

Kanda displayed an impressed reaction. Truthfully, Lavi always thought he was always in a bad mood. But that day was different. Kanda never did physically hurt him, it was actually the first time he stomped on his foot like that, which made Lavi guessed that something happened in his class or something. It was a sign that they were starting to be familiar to each other. He also burst out a possibility that maybe Kanda just hated him, but Lavi couldn't stomach thinking about anything like that, especially since he grew emotionally fond of the young student chef. It was then Lenalee came out of the kitchen doors, in the middle of tying an apron around her body, and hand-signaling Lavi across the large room.

"Lavi, your shift is over," she said with a shout, but not too loud. She winked at him, approaching the nearby table where a couple just settled in, a sign that it was her turn to wait the tables.

The redhead turned his attention back to Kanda.

"Well, whadaya know? My shift's over," he said, waywardly sitting on a chair across Kanda and taking off his apron. The other one didn't mind, having been used to the redhead's everyday atrocities. Besides, his threats and protests were futile against Lavi. He probably was the only one in the world who could bear it.

"Why does your shift ends whenever I'm here?" Kanda asked in an irritated manner, giving a dubious glare.

Lavi just smirked as he watched him sip his tea. "Lena's the one who appointed me in the scheds, not me," Kanda didn't say anything, growing more and more suspicious of the girl. He then brought out a book. Lavi peered over it where it had _Professional Cooking_ as its title. "Speaking of Lenalee, her birthday's coming up."

Kanda froze. He had completely forgotten about it. So as to avoid humiliation, he lied, "I-I know."

"Right." Lavi flashed a haughty grin.

He glowered in return. "What about her birthday?"

"I want to give her a gift. It hasn't been that long but I want to give something to the prettiest person in this café." He paused for a while, expecting to see a change in expression from Kanda's face but found none, so Lavi gave him a reason to. "Next to you, of course."

"Fuck you," Kanda's reply was frank and hurtful. Lavi found himself being glared at. And if each of Kanda's glares was a stab from his Sabatier Aîné & Perrier kitchen knife, Lavi would have been dead ages ago.

Akin to the elapsed few days, Lavi ignored the coarse comment. "I'm thinking of buying something for her from _les soldes_ that's comin' up."

Kanda rolled his conceited blue eyes. "It started a week ago."

"No way."

"You really are stupid."

Once again, ignoring the insult, he replied, "Ah, shit. Well, what about you? Are ya gonna give her something?" Lavi was aware that the two Asians knew each other longer. The girl mentioned that Kanda's family and her brother were acquaintances and they used to visit the café every weekend.

"Huh," he said with a sigh. It was all Kanda could say. He hadn't thought of a present yet. Last year, he took her to the_Carnaval de Limoux_. The girl loved everything that was colorful and fun, and he knew she would love such festivities. Lavi stayed quiet for a while as they watched Lenalee take orders from the customers and going back and forth in the kitchen.

"But ya know…" he trailed off, folding his arms on the table, "There's another important day next week."

Kanda pondered for a moment, not wanting to let the redhead know that he had forgotten another birthday. But as he seemed to have not remembered anyone having their birthday on the February—with the exception of Lenalee and her brother—he gave up. "What?"

Lavi gave him a brash smile, leaning closer. "How long have you been here again?"

Kanda looked confused, but answered anyway, "Nine years."

"You've been living in Paris—the City of Love—without even remembering what this very city is built for?"

Growing more and more annoyed by the redhead's unnecessary and ambiguous comments, Kanda replied, "Damn it, just say it already."

Lavi inhaled loudly, as if getting ready for a huge declaration. "Valentine's Day! _La Saint Valentin_!"

The other boy almost cringed, especially when Lavi said it so ceremoniously. For a boy who lived in Paris, he wasn't very attracted to Valentine's Day.

"That's not important," Kanda scoffed.

"I think so, too," he paused, Kanda's eyebrow raised, "But not if you go out with me on the 14th."

Again, his right foot was stomped on. Not with a boot, but with the very, very sharp tip of an umbrella.

_It didn't take long until the 14th__of the February came along_. Indeed, the cupid's arrows were flying all over the place. The usually calm and morose café was now bustling with all kinds of couples—teenagers, adults, husband and wife, and even old timers. It was a rare occasion for the café to be smothered by lovers, except for that certain holiday.

Kanda, on the other hand, didn't look so happy. His mood didn't quite improve when he saw the place packed with lovebirds. He just turned around and pushed the doors out of the shop until his arm was grabbed tightly by an unfamiliar hand.

"Yu!" Lavi shouted before grinning at him.

"Don't call me that," Kanda had been saying that to him over and over again but Lavi never listened. It was the first time Lavi had touched him. He noticed the tight grip on his left arm and suddenly petrified.

"Hey," The redhead called out, letting go of the arm, noticing the other man's impassive state. "Where ya goin'?"

Kanda's upset blue eyes rose. "I-I'm …just gonna find another place… to go to. My seat's probably taken anyway."

He turned, heading for the door but was again grabbed by Lavi, this time by the wrist. "What are you talking about? I reserved your seat as soon as I got here." Lavi pointed at Kanda's usual place.

Kanda was starting to get annoyed by the redhead's constant touching. "That wasn't necessary. I'm going to leave."

Lavi was just as stubborn as he was and followed the somewhat confused man until they were outside the coffee shop. There was no snow, only a cool breeze rounding about. A sigh escaped from the shorter man's lips. He knew how obstinate the redhead was and there was no way he could get rid of him. It was the first time anyone was resistant to his threats and rudness. Lavi had an ability to ignore the offensive words coming out of Kanda's mouth, and it amazed him how he could be so resilient.

Kanda roughly pushed his clutched wrist away and exhaled, letting out his visible breath. Lavi's touch stirred him and bothered him to no end. He walked ahead, leaving the one-eyed man behind. "Leave me alone."

However, Lavi continued his pursuit. He had no intention of stopping. He had to admit that he was mesmerized as soon as he laid his remaining green eye on the lovely boy. At first, it felt like shit when he found out he was slowly getting attracted to a man. It felt weird, maybe somewhat incredible. But it didn't take long enough for him to get used to it. He was resilient. He knew that. Kanda knew that. Gender was something to be worried about in a relationship, at least that was what he thought until he met Kanda. To be attracted to such a difficult guy was suffering.

Lavi then offered to be Kanda's date that day. The other man didn't accept nor reject, saying to do whatever Lavi wanted, along with a frown and a menacing tone. The redhead assumed it was alright and even suggested to go to a less crowded shop. Kanda was hesitant at first, but when the weather started to worsen, Lavi found it his chance to drag him indoors to get soaked on heat.

The sky was already getting dark when Kanda ordered hazelnut coffee—as he saw the modest shop serving tea in bags, which he didn't particularly like, preferring a more old-fashion way of brewing them—and a piece of herbed_ciabatta._ Tea made from tea bags tasted like rainwater to him. The taller man ordered a chocolate soufflé and a glass of pink lemonade. The service was superb, Lavi thought. It didn't take too long before their orders were served.

Kanda was pouring cream on his cup when Lavi spoke, admiring his wonderfully decorated chocolate dessert, "This cake looks delicious."

Kanda stopped stirring his coffee and spat out, "They're two different things."

"Soufflés, mousses, cakes, truffles—who cares? They're goddamn delicious I can tell ya that."

Kanda irately narrowed his eyes toward the oblivious redhead. "Soufflés and cakes need to be baked. A mousse doesn't."

Lavi raised his eyes and smiled. "I didn't know that."

"That's because you're an idiot."

Lavi only chuckled at his words. "I don't bake. Do you bake often? In your class, I mean," the redhead asked, playing with the insides on his soufflé.

"Depends." Kanda paused to take a sip from his hot coffee. "Our instructor gives us this mystery box crap every day. Whatever ingredients are inside, you have to cook something with it."

"That's harsh," Lavi said, taking a look around the shop's interior. It was American-themed, based on the pictures on the walls. There were pictures of New York on the west block and banners of American football teams on the east. The seats and benches were very diner-like, covered with vinyl upholstery. It gave Lavi a nostalgic feeling.

"Not entirely." he replied, He continued, "We don't bake much except on Thursdays. It was more frequent on my first year."

"I don't think I can survive in there. And here I am, thinking about shifting."

Kanda's eyes went large before looking at the man across him with surprised, horrified blue eyes. He almost spat out his coffee. He repeated in disbelief, "S-Shift…?"

"Yeah, to Culinary!" Lavi replied eagerly, absolutely loving the severe change in Kanda's face. "History is so fucking boring. My gramps only forced me anyways." It wasn't exactly true. He liked history if he was studying about it by himself. But his class was boring him to the depths of hell.

"That's ridiculous. You don't know anything about cooking." Kanda arrogantly scoffed. He didn't even know the difference between a soufflé and a mousse! The student thought hopelessly.

"That's why I have you, right?"

Kanda looked away. "Huh. As if I would teach you."

"But I know how I could make you," Lavi said with a flirting wink and a smirk.

Lavi's foot was probably swelling pretty badly up to that point, another umbrella tip shattering his toes. He finally made a decision to stop hitting on him whenever he had his umbrella with him. Their little date didn't last long. It had rained that night and it gave Lavi the opportunity to escort Kanda home—which he deliberately refused right away. The rejection made him want to buy a car as soon as possible.

_By the afternoon of the third week_, the small French city became quiet again. And Kanda loved the place even more. The flower shops were closed, couples were nonexistent, lines were back to normal, the traffic lessened, shop prices decreased and there were no cupids randomly shooting people—though he was unaware that the angel in diapers actually hit both him and Lavi during that night on Valentine's Day. He was relaxed until he remembered that it was going to be Lenalee's birthday the next day and he had no idea what to give to the young lady.

"I haven't thought of anything yet!" Lavi groaned, dropping off on the chair across Kanda. It became his usual place, like how Kanda had his own little area in the coffee shop. He didn't reply. Lavi expected much. "She'll come back from her ski trip tomorrow noon. I don't think I have much time. I tried the national sales the other day. I couldn't breathe. It was a hellhole."

Kanda only gave a sign that he was listening, nodding very slightly and looking at the redhead from time to time. But he seemed to be avoiding eye contact. Lavi mentioned that Lenalee's brother gave her two tickets to a skiing trip in Courchevel. Komui's intention was to go with her, but he was too late when she eagerly picked up her phone and invited a mysterious friend. She didn't tell whether it was a boy or a girl. Either way, Komui had the intent to find out.

Of course, Lavi had a vague idea on who it was. He knew everything. He could already guess by merging Lenalee's small stories and chitchats. He assumed the friend was a boy, probably around her age, somehow new to the place and might be a schoolmate of hers. It almost scared him how he could figure that out, especially when he was aware that he was not the analyzing type.

Kanda knew this, too, having been forced to listen to Lavi every afternoon—except Wednesdays, wherein he visited the shop early morning instead. He had no class on those days. Kanda didn't seem to mind the new companion, though. He found it quite comforting, honestly; although he wouldn't admit it to himself nor out loud. He had been going to that café alone for a very long time. Having someone to sit with was something that needed some getting used to.

Lavi watched as Kanda brought out his Galaxy Note 2. The mainframe was larger than his palms when Kanda held it. Curious, Lavi pushed his chair closer to Kanda, wanting to peer in what the other one was doing.

"Pudding?" Lavi asked with uncertainty, moving his head closer to Kanda's.

"No," Kanda said harshly, "It's a mousse cake. Haven't you learn anything?"

"I thought mousse and cake are different."

"The mousse is the creamy foam on top the cake. It's mousse only when it's mousse. It's mousse cake when it's on top of a cake."

"You're making my head hurt," The redhead complained, examining the pictures appearing on the browser. "What are ya searchin' for anyway?"

"A recipe," he replied monotonously.

_The day after was a little different._ Kanda arrived awfully early on the shop, so early that none of the employees were present, except for the head chef, Jerry. The shop was still closed and would not open until eight—also the time when the other restaurants and cafés in their row would open.

"Good morning! Don't have school today?" Jerry greeted and asked so energetically even though the sun had not come up yet. Kanda did not greet back but shook his head instead. It was a Wednesday and he was free for the day. He walked past the older chef, along with two paper bags of mysterious groceries, and headed straight to the back—where the kitchen was to be found.

"I'm borrowing the kitchen," Kanda said with a monotone pitch, grabbing an apron from the hanger and hanging it over his lower body. He still wore his regular school uniform which consisted of a white double-breasted coat with black piping and a pair of trousers with a grayscale houndstooth design.

Jerry, with much enthusiasm, replied, "Help yourself, dear!"

Jerry, who was of Indian descent, had dark brown skin, flashy bright hair in cornrows and a perpetual pair of sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He became the head chef when Kanda was twelve. Even though Kanda always thought of him as an overly-flamboyant man, he respected him greatly for being a remarkable chef. "The man can cook anything!" Everyone seemed to constantly declare. He remembered the first time he met the odd cook. He was very young, probably around eleven or twelve, when Jerry cooked him his very first Japanese-styled noodles. Jerry thought he was the most adorable Japanese boy he had ever seen and made the decision to make him feel at home by preapring something native. Unexpectedly, at first bite, Kanda fell in love with it and _soba_ became his favorite, not having to taste something like it.

Kanda, still reminiscing, was rummaging through the high wooden cabinets when he asked, "Where're the mixing bowls?"

Jerry shouted from outside the kitchen, "Plastics at the bottom drawers and the steel ones on the upper cabinet."

The young cook found the stainless steel mixing bowls, preferring it since it was heat-proof and was more ideal. He took out all his groceries, and placed it carefully on the counter, one by one. He grabbed four white eggs, cracked them skillfully on the bowl without mixing in the whites—which he reserved for later. He mixed in some water, few drops of Cognac, and two tablespoons of white sugar.

When Kanda began beating the mixture upon a saucepan, the café door's golden bells rang twice. He heard an exchanging of good mornings outside the kitchen. He recognized the voice.

The kitchen doors opened, "Good morning!"

The boy didn't reply and only nodded. It was only Johnny Gill, a product development engineer working in one of Komui's other companies. Kanda could describe him as clumsy and terribly awkward, but was willing to help just about anyone. He was a rather short man, even though he was way older than Kanda. He wore headphones above his bed of curly brown hair, had that very exceptional American complexion and wore large circular glasses. He mostly worked part-time as the technical support, plumber, electrician and everything else in between.

Johnny was putting his things in his locker when Kanda finished whisking the initial mixture. He paused for awhile, scrutinizing the three different bittersweet chocolates he set neatly on top of a clean counter. He looked as if he was in deep concentration which made Johnny stare at him, confused.

"Johnny! Start setting up the tables outside!" Someone ordered from the dining area. Kanda didn't notice more people came in but he could clearly distinguish the strong Australian accent of Reever Wenham. It was almost springtime, which meant that they could start putting the tables outside the restaurant.

The café always had the taste of everything—the best of both worlds. They had no problems with international tourists since they were pretty ethnically diverse themselves. They were like a typical Parisian family—despite the vast cultural differences. They specialize in everything, having to work in a well-known coffee shop in a famous boulevard in the city. Restaurants and cafés in their street could not afford untalented staff.

Of course, they weren't the only members of the family. There were other regulars like Kanda. His own uncle was one of them, but he was more of a special customer rather than a regular. He was a famous painter after all, known in countries Kanda had never been before. Tideoll barely came to the place, having to travel to different places, being invited to exhibitions and parties in remarkable parts of the world.

Reever went to the kitchen. Kanda saw the look of surprise from the man.

"Hey, you're early," the older man greeted Kanda but never received a greeting in return. He knew the fact that Kanda was a boy of few words—everyone did. So they weren't bothered by his lack of responses at all. Reever knew he hardly talked to anyone and was only a tad bit talkative with Lenalee and no one else. The blond only smiled and went back outside, letting Kanda do whatever.

Kanda was still concentrating on what chocolate to use when there was an exceptional noise outside. The café bell rang again, but very strongly. The door banged when it closed. And Kanda could already guess who went in. He stopped what he was doing for some reason and began listening to the voices outside the galley. He could not understand it, but it was comprehensible.

"You're early today," He heard Reever say.

"Yeah, ya know me. It's a Wednesday! I need to be early on Wednesdays especially since—" Kanda couldn't hear the rest and was followed again by Reever.

"Well, do we have a surprise for _you_."

Jerry continued, sounding very cheerful, "Try going to the kitchen, sweetie."

Kanda gasped soundlessly in surprise and hurriedly attempted to look busy by whisking the bowl filled with cream again; although it was over-mixed already.

Then, the steel kitchen doors burst opened, giving the large windowless room a few rays of sunshine from the forthcoming sun, along with the café's very own figure of sunshine—Lavi. Reever, Jerry and Johnny followed the one-eyed man to the kitchen, wanting to see Kanda's expression.

"Yu!" Lavi yelled in sheer happiness, smiling like the morning sun. "_Bonjour_!"

The tall man threw his arms on his side, attempting to hug the man who wasn't mutually happy to see each other, but Kanda moved out of the way, giving Lavi only air to embrace. Kanda sighed before warning him, "If you still want your hand attached to your wrist, you better not do anything stupid."

"Oh?" Lavi only smiled back and asked mischievously, "What're ya doing?"

Kanda ignored the question and focused back on what chocolate to use. He was looking at the wrapper's writings on the back. Lavi tilted his head, wondering what the young man was doing. Lavi dropped his bags sloppily on the ground and walked over to Kanda, scrutinizing at the chocolates on the counter.

"Chocolate?" he asked, noticing various ingredients and food on the counter, mixing bowls filled with cream, and knives and utensils set neatly on one side.

"I'm making a chocolate mousse cake." he nodded. Lavi replied by making an impressed noise.

"For me?"

Kanda tried not to blush, "N-No! Don't be so cocky. I'm not doing this for you."

"Who's it for, then?"

"For Lenalee." Kanda added, "It's my gift."

"Oh, cool. What's wrong with the chocolate? It'll melt if you stare at them with your warm blue eyes."

Kanda then slapped him with a cake knife lightly, but hard enough to hurt. Lavi yelped in pain and was caressing his reddening cheek. Kanda muttered, "The chocolates I brought were a little dull. I shoud've bought new ones."

Lavi looked over the brands, still nursing his cheek, "_Dull_? Don't you mean expensive? Bonnat, Valrhona, and Michel Cluizel? Are you _kidding_ me?"

Kanda looked at him crossly and slapped him behind the head. "It's not about the price! It's about the cocoa content. The more the cocoa, the more flavorful the chocolate will be."

Lavi apologized quickly, not wanting to get the boy in a bad mood early in the morning. When Kanda finally decided to use the Valrhona brand, he took another bowl and combined the egg whites he set aside earlier and mingled it with a cream of tartar.

"I want to help!" Lavi demanded with even more energy than Jerry.

Kanda stopped and looked at him. He couldn't help himself from comparing Lavi to an excited six-year-old, thrilled to bake his very first cake. Lavi's jaded eye shone with enthusiasm that Kanda couldn't do anything but sigh and allow the silly redhead to help.

Lavi grabbed a nearby apron, not caring who owned it (It was Jerry's) as Kanda sighed for the second time before folding the sleeves of his uniform to make it shorter and to avoid the stains.

"What's my new task, _capitaine_?" Lavi asked readily, his eye gleaming.

Kanda was chopping his preferred chocolate bar into tiny pieces when he said, "Mix these with that mixture over there. Whisk it until it's smooth. Don't mess this up."

Lavi saluted playfully. "Sir, yes, sir!" Kanda stopped chopping the chocolate and dashed it over to Lavi's direction, signaling him to put it in the mixture. He did as he was told to while Kanda was busy preparing the secondary mixture.

The other people in the room—besides Lavi and Kanda—watched the scene attentively. They had never seen Kanda interact with someone like that other than Lenalee. They had always considered the young girl special for being the only one who could tolerate the man's indifference. But since Lavi came, he'd probably replace Lenalee as the special one. Suddenly seeing Kanda gain the patience to teach the most stubborn and dense redhead in the planet made Reever vaguely bewildered.

Reever whispered, so only the Indian and the American could hear, "Kanda seems to like him. Don't you think?"

"It's so weird seeing him like that," Johnny answered, smiling half-heartedly, still shocked that Kanda was actually interacting with someone so casually.

Jerry nodded a few times and sighed contentedly. "I, for one, think it's cute."

Their conversation stopped when Lavi shouted suddenly, turning their attentions back to him.

"Yu! I think I did something wrong…!" Lavi worried. Kanda approached him as the redhead showed him the mixing bowl filled with lumpy chocolate mixture instead of the needed smooth texture.

Kanda looked at the bowl, then at Lavi and suddenly dropped his shoulders. "It's normal. We used dark chocolate. It has the tendency to form lumps. Something must have gone wrong with the melting."

"What should I do with this? Will ya have to do it all over again?" Lavi asked nervously. He was a little afraid that the smaller man would get mad.

"No," Kanda said, reaching out a jar of coffee behind him. Lavi raised a brow at it.

"Coffee?" he asked.

Kanda didn't move and just added two tablespoons of coffee into the bowl. Lavi could only stare in amazement when Kanda took the lead and mixed the cream expertly. It didn't take long until the mixture turned from lumpy to smooth.

"You're amazing…!" Lavi said, largely astonished, spurting out words carelessly and widening his eye. Kanda's eyes widened and he could feel himself blushing. No one ever complimented him in his cooking, especially when the people around him—in his school—were also incredible and more competent than him.

Jerry, who was the only one left watching the two, smiled and rubbed his chin. He could barely talk to Kanda and could barely teach Lavi anything. They were a perfect match. The head chef watched them as they bicker like a couple, Lavi acting as an obedient errand boy, and Kanda getting mad and shouting at him. He watched how they mixed the bowl together, how they put some crushed walnuts on the mixture, how they exchanged words and how they interacted. It fascinated Jerry to a great extent—seeing Kanda all friendly (if he could call it that) and sociable with no hostility present. At last, Jerry saw them finished the mousse mixture, decorated the pre-made cake with it and put it in a fridge.

_Lenalee wore a smile when she entered the café a couple of hours later._ Lavi was the first to greet her a happy birthday, and the whole staff next. Kanda didn't greet her and instead served the chocolate mousse he and Lavi had made earlier that day. Lenalee thanked the boy and gave him a small hug. Lavi, however, gave her a small pink box wrapped by a ribbon with a darker shade of pink. When the girl opened it, a simple bracelet, which Lavi acquired from the national sales, was inside. She then thanked the redhead and gave him a hug as well.

The others also gave her gifts and it was the first time Lavi had ever seen her so touched and almost teary-eyed from happiness. After midnight, when the shop closed, Komui threw a large party for the girl, complete with thick layers of confetti, food that were from the shop, cake that Kanda especially made, a live band he had found playing in the streets in the 4th arrondissementand seven dozens of gifts only from him. Lenalee couldn't contain her tears and cried tears of joy. The night ended with the café family singing a French birthday song to the Chinese young lady.

* * *

**A/N: And then, I came to a decision to update this monthly... and to eat some mousse later. There's one tupperware of one lying bored in my fridge. So, belated ****Happy Valentines to everyone****! I was suppose to update on Hearts Day but you know, I'm a busy woman with a love life (not really).**

**Please review! comment, ask, corrections, anything.**** And I love all your reviews! I appreciate the favorites and alerts, it would be nice to know what you all think of the story. I love you all! :)**

_**I do not own DGM or its characters.**_

_**EDITED: 04/20/13**_


	3. Bouillabaisse

_**Les Rêves des Amoureux Sont Comm'e le Bon Vin**_

* * *

**Recipe Three**

**March**

_**"Bouillabaisse"**_

* * *

_**Ingredients:**_

_10-12 pounds assorted whole fish (avoid oily fish)_

_4-5 pounds of assorted baby fish_

_3 leeks or medium-sized onions_

_1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil_

_8 cloves of garlic, chopped coarse_

_1 cup white wine_

_5 ripe tomatoes, chopped coarse_

_1 medium-sized _bouquet garni

_1/4 cup Pernod or Ricard_

_1/2 teaspoon saffron threads_

_1 pound New Zealand mussels_

* * *

_The first Tuesday of the third month probably__wasn't what Kanda expected. _He was cleaning his counter; brushing and wiping continuously in a vertical pace and had no intention to stop until he was completely convinced that the counter was stain-free, when the chef walked into the room with his small feet which came too disproportionate with his overweight frame. Chef Bruce Peroché was an especially cheery Frenchman, easy on the eyes and possessed the very essence of kindness.

Food was his passion; his body as big as his talent in cooking which gave him the inspiration to teach. He had a flaxen, thick mustache covering most of his upper lip, a belly blown up like a balloon, skin almost as red as shrimps and a face adorned with deep pair of dimples. He was very close to his students that they had the authority to call him endearing nicknames. 'Chef Peroché' was the most common way to address him, used by the students who held great respect and admiration for him. Meanwhile, '_monsieur cochon' _ was a funny pet name the students came up with. Chef Bruce took no offense and seemed very agreeable to it.

Loudly, he clapped his hand once, gathering everyone's attention, Kanda included. "I have the most exciting news," he declared, wearing a V-shaped smile which made his cheeks tubbier. He spoke in English, but still spewed a thick French accent. He spoke his native language often but it was more Parisian than Provençal. He was said to be born in Provence and lived there until he traveled to Paris for university studies when he was only sixteen. That would probably explain his altered way of speaking as he was already in his mid-forties. The stout chef walked over to the center of the room, puffing his white toque with his round fingers. "We have a new addition to our class."

There were several students who transferred during the middle of a semester. They weren't unusual, especially in his side of the university. Going back to his business as well as ignoring the chef's excitement, Kanda didn't particularly notice a rather tall figure striding through the door towards the middle of the room, showing off a coy grin and an exceptional raise of a brow. The soaring man stopped next to the chef and turned forty-five degrees around to face the crowd.

"He shifted from the College of Arts and Letters. And—"

He stopped listening. Kanda's eyes tapered. Why did College of Arts and Letters sound so familiar to him? He heard it from somewhere. He just couldn't quite remember. The ignorant young man shrugged, his back facing the chef and the transferee. He chose to pay no heed to the new student which was frankly the same thing he did to all the others, seeing that he never really _was_ interested in any of his classmates. It wasn't as if he disliked all of them. He just preferred to work alone. Focusing would be much easier that way. He couldn't afford to waste his time. His uncle was paying big money to get him to a good university—not that his Uncle Tiedoll actually needed to work _that_ hard for his tuition. Money was easy breezy for him. But the only way Kanda could repay the man's kindness was to at least finish studying, find a great job and live by his own income.

"Why don't you introduce yourself, young man?" He heard the chef say.

"Hey, everyone. I'm Lavi Bookman. I used to be in History, but it's _way_ too boring there. I thought it would be nice to shift to Culinary. Nice change of pace."

The hauntingly familiar voice; loud and lighthearted made Kanda stop suddenly, his arms halting midway through his cleaning as his pupils dilated and his eyebrows flashed. He might've stopped breathing for a moment but he was in a serious state of incredulity to even bother to notice. "You have _got_ to be _kidding_ me—" He whipped his body around making his long ponytail sway charmingly, only to be greeted by the handsome features of the ever-so-cheerful Lavi.

The only difference was that the green-eyed man wasn't wearing his usual uniform Kanda was so accustomed to. He hadn't seen Lavi wear anything other than the café's waiter outfit and his usual V-neck long sleeves. It was a little surprising seeing Lavi all dressed up with the same uniform as his; a white double-breasted jacket and checkered trousers. Except Lavi conceived a dislike to the trousers—or the entirety of the uniform itself since it was so bland—that he wore denim blue jeans instead. He had his usually unkempt forelock pushed back by a green bandana which made his paprika hair stand out more, infusing a sudden flash of color to the somewhat unsaturated room.

A pair of disbelieving blue eyes blinked several times before it flared with animosity. He must be in a nightmare. He even pinched himself to be sure. Out of all the ten-thousand students in the university, out of all the five classes in Culinary Arts, Lavi just _had_ to transfer to his class. ("How did he even manage to do that? Doesn't it take a lot of paperwork and kissing the dean's ass to shift?") Kanda remembered Lavi mention something about transferring, but he never thought that the redhead would actually _do_ it.

Lavi, on the other hand, looked around, his uncovered eye traveling from left to right before finally finding the figure of Kanda, who was already looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite make out. His lips curved into a smile as he started to notice the different people in the crowd. They threw him different looks; some were interested; eyes glistening with curiosity, and some were just apparently talking about how uncanny he looked, eyepatch and all. He could tell that a few of them didn't even understand him.

The redhead was undoubtedly attractive enough to make the young women mumble amongst themselves. Kanda could hear three girls whispering and giggling beside him. "He's kinda cute!" and "_Oui, oui!_" they would say and some more endearing phrases that came along those lines. It was nauseating. He didn't even know why. His eyes gazed at the opposite direction. He grunted in despair, observing the world outside the window to shift his attention from Lavi.

The indifference Kanda was forging was soon noticed by Lavi, his welcomed smile turning into a displeased frown. When the chef finished his introductions, Lavi almost immediately marched toward the black-haired student and greeted him in the loudest possible way.

Kanda's eyes turned wide when everyone almost simultaneously turned to them with an expression the same as his. His face was heating up. Normally, they would only look at him like that if he did something extraordinary during exercises. It worried him, too, having maintained a remarkable reputation throughout his years in college, being that aloof, talented, quiet young man who was never interested in social relationships. But now that Lavi (purposely) succeeded to create a large crack in his glass image, Kanda feared his classmates would think more tenderly about him and even try to be friends with him. The thought made him shudder.

_Kanda spent the first class mouthing off at Lavi._ In the eastern corner of the very spacious kitchen was an area made to have wooden chairs and tables on it, acting as a little classroom in case of lectures. All they had to do was to listen to their educator and write notes. There were no hands-on activities that day, much to Kanda's relief, since he wouldn't want the eyepatched man to pester him during the exercises. Teaching him how to make a mousse was terrifying enough. Lavi's face slumped, obviously disappointed not having to cook on his first day. And he made Kanda his emotional outlet by talking to him non-stop. The redhead probably thought that the only thing they had to do in class was to cook and bake and cook…

By then, Kanda found it extremely hard to concentrate. It wasn't because Lavi kept talking to him all the time; it was because of the stares he was getting from his classmates. He could tell each one of them was both amused and surprised that Lavi acted so comfortable with him. The transferee was trying his best to talk quietly so that only the two of them could hear their own voices. The lecturer didn't seem to notice, too focused on writing something about inflation on the whiteboard whilst holding a thick blue book.

"My _bac_ level is high," Lavi said when Kanda asked how he managed to transfer so easily, shifting on his seat to get closer so Kanda could hear him better. "So I tried for a scholarship. I don't have to pay for anything here." The pale man stared at him. Kanda blinked several times, giving off an impression that he didn't believe every word the redhead said. The words "high _bac_ level" and "Lavi" didn't quite mash up. "Not that I have money problems. I just don't want to rely on the old man too much. Or better yet, he doesn't want _me _to rely on 's the one who got me that job in the café, though. He's friends with the manager or something. I guess that's something to thank him for."

Kanda looked back at the instructor with half-closed eyes, pondering how different they were. He relied a lot on his uncle while Lavi refused full support from his grandfather. It wasn't like he had a choice. His adamant uncle insisted.

The lecture for the whole day was about accounting and management, a little bit of economics here and there. Kanda could say it was the fastest class he had ever been. He was even surprised to see the clock already pointing at twelve. His head leaned down to look at his completely blank notebook and an unused Parker pen. One eye twitched, realizing he hadn't written a single note. He didn't pay attention to a lecture. That was surely his first. And a certain redhead was to blame. Strangely, he didn't mind. It actually gave him a sense of freedom.

The professor bid his _adieu_ and left. Kanda then went to the stations to get his things. Lavi literally jumped over a kitchen counter toward Kanda and placed his hand on his shoulder. Kanda recoiled at the touch and shook it off.

He hissed, "Don't touch me."

"Are ya heading to the café, Yu?"

Disbelieving eyes all started at the two of them. Kanda's golden reputation shattered with just one phrase. He cursed the other man. Everyone then wondered why Lavi was still alive and kicking even after calling him by his first name.

_All the employees of Le Gris Café had their eyes wide as saucers when they saw Kanda enter the café with Lavi_. And that was just one of the few things to be surprised of. Jerry had already gotten out of the kitchen when Johnny called him, just to peek at the two men, who were wearing the same uniform, walking together. He bucked his hip to the right and placed his left hand on his waist. "Well, Lavi looks absolutely charming today, doesn't he," He said with a two-note tune, grinning, his eye probably shining behind his black, sharp sunglasses.

"Did Lavi…does Kanda…how did he…?" Reever, clearly confused, sighed and scratched the bridge of his nose. He walked back to the kitchen as he muttered, "I _just_ don't know what that kid is thinking."

Kanda sat down on his own little corner of the café, dropping his bag beside him. Alternatively, Lavi smiled at him before heading excitedly toward the kitchen, giving off the assumption that he'd be bragging about his transfer or his cool new uniform. Kanda was then left alone, which gave him the chance to relax, slump back on his seat, massage his temples and bring out a loud, frustrated sigh.

The employee's lounge was at the second floor of the building. It was too large for a just a hangout for the employees yet it seemed even bigger than Lavi's entire apartment unit. There were a few lockers on the east wall, the second half located in the kitchen, Lavi remembered. There was an LCD TV and DVD player on top of a long, horizontal desk with drawers filled with various DVD's brought over by the staff. Two comfy couches sat across each other, along with complementary armchairs. Three wooden chairs were tucked underneath a rectangular dining table, and another chair by a fridge which was only used to lunches brought over by the staff. Lavi was starting to think that the café cared more for their employees rather than their customers.

He walked over to his locker and changed into his waiter uniform which consisted of an elegant black vest over a white, long-sleeved dress shirt and black slacks beneath a waist apron. It was very monochromatic for someone as bright as Lavi. He took off his bandana and clipped his one side of his forelock back, to make him a little more presentable. To finish up, he hastily put on a black tie and tucked it under his vest. A minute after he was done dressing, Reever barged in with arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

"Spill," Reever simply said.

"Spill? Where? Isn't that the work of a busser?" Lavi cunningly said as he brushed off the lint that stuck to his slacks. Reever kneaded his forehead. He wasn't even sure if the young man was being sarcastic.

"You're lucky I assigned you as a waiter instead of a busser."

"Oh, come on. Does this face look like a busser?" Lavi tried to pull off a seductive expression but failed awesomely. "A café like this needs an attractive waiting staff."

"That's not the point here," Reever replied, sitting down on one of the armchairs. "Did you just shift to Culinary Arts?"

"I might've." He shrugged, wanting to give the assistant manager the benefit of the doubt. He grinned childishly.

"Bloody hell, when was this?"

"I filed a request few days ago," he answered, pushing the student chef uniform forcefully into his already full backpack. "I didn't expect it to be that easy, really."

"We promised Bookman to look after you. If he finds out—"

"Then don't tell him," Lavi disrupted. He held his hands up in reassurance. "He won't know, I promise. I'll shift back before that happens." He smiled as if it was as easy as making pie. He stood firmly in front of a mirror, twisting his body to check on some flaws before tying his shoes.

"The uni isn't your playground, Lavi." Reever shook his head in disapproval. "How could the school let you shift, anyway?"

"Didn't you know I passed the _bac_ with flying colors? I have the right to be pissed if they didn't accept my request."

Reever rolled his eyes, but was secretly impressed at the same time. "Fine. But if Bookman calls one day and asks about you, I'm not going to hesitate telling him about your little boy crush."

"That's harsh," Lavi said with a face sagged with hurt. He swayed a finger at the Australian to further emphasize his half-hearted denial. "I wouldn't call it a boy crush."

"Then how would you explain it? You shifted because of Kanda, right? How's that not a boy crush?"

"I just want to be with him more often. That's all."

"You just made it worse."

Lavi bit a section of his lower lip with his front teeth and released it. "I can't exactly pin-point why or how, okay? You could at least call it a bromance or something."

"Sure, except you're not entirely straight."

It was like he was the in the center of the dart board and Reever hit the bull's eye. Lavi faked a sniffle even though his nose was entirely empty. He narrowed his eye at him, "What's up with you? You're really mean today."

Reever sighed. "It's Komui. I think he ditched his own business. He barely comes here to work."

"What, your little boy crush hanging at the edge of a cliff?"

Reever threw him a spiteful look. Lavi only held a smirk of triumph. "Go back to work before I make you clean the bathrooms."

"Jesus, I'm just kidding."

When Lavi went down, he saw a huge crowd—which wasn't all surprising. But even with the enormous amount of people, it seemed so quiet. An Édith Piaf song playing was the only thing that could be heard aside from the very silent conversations that the customers were having. That was probably one of the things that Lavi loved about France. The French would spend hours and hours just sitting, with a cup of _café au lait_ as their only companion. He had worked shortly for a breakfast place back in New York where everybody was so busy and in a hurry that they had to gulp down their cup of coffee in one go.

Tourists were not a rare sight in the café. Lavi would sometimes play as a waiter who didn't know how to speak in English, just to see how they would deal with it. There was once a group of obese, middle-aged, American ladies who stopped by and asked for a menu. They were loud and mad and just plain rude. They left ordering nothing and even shouted that the place was horrible. The women had probably thought the staff didn't understand when they were the most fluent English-speakers in Saint-Germain-des-Prés. When Johnny told him that story, Lavi was thankful he wasn't there during that time.

Lavi first went to the kitchen to get Kanda's order; which he guessed to be tea with a butter croissant or crème brûlée. Kanda didn't seem to mind whatever bread Lavi was set on giving him. The important element was the beverage. Lavi knew this and had developed the ability to guess what Kanda would want every day. And looking at his tired blue eyes, the redhead could tell the man wanted tea rather than coffee. Milk? No. Green? His lashes flicked. Black, maybe? Lavi then observed him more keenly. A little sigh escaped from his slightly parted lips. Ah, Oolong Black Tea.

"How do you do that?" Kanda asked with an interested tone when the one-eyed waiter arrived with his small meal; a cup of Oolong Black Tea and a small plate of a freshly baked almond croissant, together with a receipt tucked underneath the saucers, setting the glassware one by one, gently and gracefully.

"Do what?"

"This," He replied, making a swift wave of a hand over his simple little banquet, referring to Lavi's amazing sixth sense.

"Don't tell anybody, but…"Lavi bent over slightly, shadowing over Kanda's seated position. He looked to his right then the left before jokingly whispering, "I can read minds."

He thought the meticulous student was having a bad day. So the next thing that happened didn't actually cross Lavi's mind. His first expectation was for Kanda to roll his eyes, curse him, or stomp on his foot, even.

He laughed.

Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly a laugh. It was more of a deep, one-syllable sound that came from the back of his throat. It wasn't loud nor was it obvious. He had to purse his lips to keep his mouth closed, the air only being released by his turned-up-shaped nose. It wasn't even close enough to be considered as a chuckle. It was probably along the lines of an optimistic scoff. But his lips did curve into a very inconspicuous smile though.

Lavi grinned. He looked wide-eyed at him with an expression saying, "You just laughed."

The other man had his eyes round, frowning instantly, his pale face reddening. "I didn't."

"I've never heard you laugh before." His grin was getting wider.

Kanda simply looked bemused. "I didn't _laugh_."

"Yes, you did." A glare was thrown at him.

"You're imagining things," Kanda replied promptly. Lavi opened his mouth for a retort, but Kanda cut him off before he could speak. "Customer," he said, using his eyes and a haste push of the head to point at a table few tables behind Lavi.

"Clever," he told Kanda. Lavi raised his index finger. "I'll get back to you later."

Looking behind, Lavi noticed a man, perhaps already in his fifties, with the menu face down on the circular glass table. He immediately went to ask for his order. The man ordered red wine and light dinner. After the man had said his thanks, Lavi's vision went back to Kanda who was already sipping his tea as he looked outside the window. It was beginning to get dark, the orange sky slowly turning into pink, and then shifting into hyacinth hues.

An hour later, Lavi asked, "Why don't you sit outside for a change?" The other person didn't reply and just sipped his second refill of tea. "I mean, it's spring now. It's warm and cold at the same time. It's windy. And the lights are just… beautiful." Lavi shifted his gaze from the glass pane to Kanda. And just by looking at him, the city lights seemed to disappear behind him, the radiance blurring in his vision.

The mention of the word 'outside' made Kanda turn his head to the side to look at the streets, bustling with activity; lights blinking warm hues, people walking unhurriedly, like they had all the time in the world, wearing their designer outfits and carrying shopping bags. "I never sit outside."

"Why?"

"I feel more… secure here."

_Lavi looked like a child on his first time at an amusement park the next day._ Their chef arrived early in the morning with his charming smile and said, "Today is Thursday, correct? And I'm sure everybody knows what that means."

"Cook-off!" a student enthusiastically said.

"Right you are, Louis!" Chef Bruce shouted as he mimicked firing a gun at the student using his hand. "It got me thinking that we never had a chance to do cook-offs in pairs…"

Kanda stiffened. He knew what the chef wanted to do.

"We were an odd number, that's why. Well, since Monsieur Bookman transferred, making us twenty-two, how about it, eh?"

The class murmured and cheered with agreement. Kanda was the only one who wasn't that excited. Lavi was beside him, literally jumping in anticipation.

The Chef paused and tapped his chin with his three fingers. "Monsieur Bookman is new. He should be paired with one of our best, _oui_?"

It was quiet. And all the students slowly rotated their spines and gazes to Kanda, who wished his glares could actually kill somebody. The big chef across the room looked convinced.

"_Alors!_ It is settled, then!" He clapped his hands twice. The double doors opened can there came two students, pushing long, horizontal, steel push carts with a huge plastic foil covering it whole, hiding whatever was beneath. "_Vite! Vite! _Pair up! Pair up!"

Everyone was suddenly full of energy, frantically grabbing each other's arms, claiming each other as partners before anyone could steal them away. The girls paired up with their best friends while the men did the same and paired with their best buddies. There were only three pairs who weren't the same gender. And they were most likely couples. Lavi and Kanda didn't need to move much, seeing as they were stuck with each other. Lavi was all too happy. The other was feeling the exact opposite.

A single clap from the chef made every person stop. "Our theme today…"

"I feel like we're in Iron Chef." Lavi whispered, giggling with excitement, wrapping his arm around Kanda's shoulders.

"I'm gonna burn your face with an iron if you don't shut up." He hit Lavi's sides with his elbow, the redhead's arms withdrawing instantly.

"…is _la mer_, the sea!"

Just then, the foils were removed from the carts, revealing different kinds of fish while also letting out a rather fishy, repugnant stench. The whole class reacted negatively, murmuring about how stinky the room was becoming.

"Do whatever you want with it. Experiment a little or go classic. It is up to you!" With that, the chef headed for the door. "You have 90 minutes to finish. I'll be back to judge."

They all began rushing towards the carts where a variety of fish lay, clearly fresh from the markets. It was confusing, and only the experienced could distinguish the fish from one another. It wasn't just fish though. There were other seafoods; scallops, shrimps, mussels, and other black, weird, pointy objects— urchins and sea spiders. The women kept complaining how smelly it was. The men didn't seem to mind, not even bothering to use gloves. There were two weighing scales on each cart. The bigger one seemed to be more crowded.

Lavi waited. He turned to Kanda who looked like he was in deep thought, his arms crossed and his eyes fixed at the argent floor. "Your orders, _capitaine_."

Kanda ignored him and instead observed his classmates. He saw the counter next to them had shallots prepared. White wine was carried by one of the pair while the other one ran to the counter with a basket of flukes and flounders from the cart. He assumed they would be making Sole Bercy. Kanda turned around. The pair behind them had brought mussels to their counter. One student was already chopping parsley and shallots. Kanda could tell they'd be making steamed mussels. Quickly, he straightened up and took out the necessary utensils.

Lavi still waited.

"You," Kanda said, pointing a rather sharp knife at him. "Go and get the fish."

Lavi began to feel energized, jumping with his toes. "Okay. What kind?"

"All of them."

"You serious?"

"All. Get all the fish. Put it in the basket until they're ten pounds." Kanda then pointed at the counter at their right. "See those small ones? Get those kinds too. They're baby fishes. Get four pounds of those and bring them here."

He was surprised a bit. But he trusted Kanda. Still somewhat unsure, Lavi replied, "…okay?"

The other pairs were already cutting and chopping and there was no longer a crowd at the carts. Lavi took the liberty to get all kinds of everything, careful to follow his partner's instructions, and went back to their counter.

"This is everything in there. There's sea urchin, too. I was scared to touch them. But they're actually really squishy and stuff," Lavi said, dropping the heavy baskets filled with various seafoods on the countertop. He joked, "What are we making? The Pacific Ocean?"

"More like Mediterranean."

"It's not an ocean."

Kanda glared at him. "I _know_, you little shit."

"So, we're making the Mediterranean Sea?"

"Bouillabaisse," He said without looking at him. "We're making bouillabaisse." Lavi still looked confused. Kanda sighed. "It's a fish soup. There are two parts; the bouillabaisse itself and the _rouille_. I'll be making broth first."

"_Rouille?_ Isn't that…?"

"It's not rust, you idiot. It's the sauce." Kanda paused, getting a few spices and glass containers from the cabinets. "And you're going to make it."

Lavi stared and was starting to feel all giddy. Kanda then gave him clear instructions. And even repeated it to make sure Lavi didn't forget a thing. Then, they started. The first thing Kanda did was to sort out the fish they would use and the ones they wouldn't. He took out the mackerels, salmons, and sardines. Lavi couldn't help but ask why. "Mackerels are too oily, except the Spanish ones. Salmon and sardines are too flavorful for this kind of soup." came his reply.

Kanda was no fishmonger, but he filleted the fish with a knife so quickly it was almost beautiful to watch, Lavi could only watch in awe. He got scolded for getting distracted and then focused back to crushing garlic cloves with the side of a wide chef knife.

Kanda ingeniously made Lavi do all the dirty work; gutting the small fries, cutting the gills off the heads and other disgusting labor Kanda had little intention of doing. It wasn't as if he couldn't do it. Lavi was there by his side and he wanted to take advantage of the boy. Thank heavens the taller boy knew basic cooking skills. At least Kanda didn't have to waste time teaching him every damn thing.

"Finally, we're cooking," Lavi said, taking out a loaf of white bread from a cabinet, still inside a colorless plastic with the words 'Pepperidge Farms' printed on it. He added, "Didn't know you had lectures too, though."

Kanda's gaze turned to him, then back to the onions he was chopping. A metallic bowl was next to his chopping board, fish bones and heads submersed in cold water which had turned reddish brown due to the blood. "You transferred here just to cook? You're way beyond stupid."

The one-eyed man only laughed and shook his head while he was removing crusts from the bread. He replied, "Not really. I mean, I can cook anytime I want." He was smiling. He didn't look at Kanda when he was talking, busy turning the bread into crumbs.

Kanda couldn't read him. His actions were just so unpredictable that he was hard to understand. Lavi was the only one who could make him ask things voluntarily. It was starting to confuse him. "Then, why?"

Big, strong hands stopped moving. Lavi asked himself. He was practically searching every sector of his brain for an acceptable explanation. His head raised, then turned slowly to his left where Kanda stood, enchantingly working with a knife. He just wanted to be with Kanda more often. That was the same thing he said to Reever. He tried looking for a more believable and less embarrassing reason. But the same thing came over and over again.

He moved again and decided to cut the bell peppers next. "I just want to…" He trailed off. Kanda would definitely not believe him. Lavi tilted his head to look at the smaller young man; who was staring back with his blue eyes, waiting for an answer. He changed his answer; "I just want to… try something new, I guess."

Something told Kanda that Lavi was not entirely saying the truth. He shrugged it off as unimportant. He didn't want to be concerned at the moment and didn't speak any further. As if that would be enough motivation to transfer, Kanda thought. He scoffed, focusing back at his work. He heated a deep pan on the stove and poured a layer of olive oil on it, throwing in the garlic Lavi had minced. He whiffed the steam until it smelled right. He turned up the heat and added onions. The garlic-y smell was rising up when Kanda asked Lavi to get the all of the fish out of the water and put it in a clean dry pot. Afterwards, he called him again.

"Stir this. I'll just get the white wine," Kanda said, forcefully handing the wooden ladle to Lavi. He added before going to the freezing storage room, "Keep stirring, make sure nothing burns."

Suddenly, Lavi felt like he was given a huge responsibility. He did as he was told. And when Kanda came back, he quickly opened the bottle of white wine, still walking, and poured it almost carelessly to the pot, deglazing the initial sauté so as to avoid the garlic from sticking. He allowed it to simmer.

"Hey, aren't you, like, gonna measure that?"

"I don't need to," he bragged.

Lavi finished with the _rouille__ in a matter of minutes_. It wasn't much of a hassle since it only involved a food processor and a bunch of chopped things like onions, bell peppers and bread crumbs. Lavi transferred it to a new bowl and began working it over slowly with olive oil, as Kanda instructed. His partner had to interrupt, mixing in pimentón (which Kanda thought to be very similar to Lavi's hair color) at the last minute, giving the _rouille_ a richer color of orange.

Meanwhile, the bouillabaisse was almost done. After stirring in chopped tomatoes, _bouquet garni_, olive oil, a bit of saffron, and a quarter cup of Pernard, he put in the beautiful New Zealand mussels, splashing the dull orange broth with gradient green colors. The seams of flavor was beginning to smell heavenly. The mussels were half-open when Kanda threw in the chunks of assorted seafood—the translucent striped bass, monkfish, and rockfish slowly turning opaque. Minutes more of simmering and they were done with plenty of time left. It was just enough time to make finishing touches.

"Get plates. We're almost done," Kanda ordered, taking the deep pan off the heat. Lavi arrived with the plates and potware. One plate was filled with the bouillabaisse—perfectly cooked seafood drowning in the yellow-orange broth, another plate with the _rouille_ and toasted bread to accompany it. Kanda threw in a few shredded vegetables on top of the bowl as garnish. Lavi looked over the whole thing, sighing with relief.

"I thought the broth and fish are separated."

"It varies. I think it just looks more natural this way," Kanda replied, scrutinizing every detail, looking for any mistake or slip-ups. The biggest platter was porcelain and had the large collection of fish; monkfish, John Dory, striped bass, urchins and congers. Kanda intended to combine it with sea spiders. But Lavi complained, refusing to add it, saying it looked more repulsive than appetizing. The golden thick sauce was on a small but heavily-adorned peach pot. The entirely of their dish had a strong scent which took over the whole room, giving the people inside a whiff of that sensational Mediterranean sea breeze. The both of them looked at it one last time.

"We're gonna win this shit for sure."

Kanda couldn't say he wasn't pleased. He was very satisfied of the outcome. His horrible expectations didn't transpire and Lavi was quite the helper, surprisingly. The other pairs were finished as well. Kanda found himself smirking when he was the only one who made bouillabaisse.

It wasn't that long until the chef came in, ringing a bell that came out quite annoying. The students hurried themselves. They had all finished under the time limit and Chef Bruce praised them greatly for their incredible sense of time. Everyone stopped moving, their dishes placed on their respective serving tables, well-made and extraordinarily presentable, plates were clean and unstained. The once fishy smell became a wonderful aroma of the sea.

The chef walked over the counters one at a time, tasting a spoonful of whatever that particular pair made. Some of them were praised while the others were given a "nice try but you should add more flavor next time". There were at least three or four repeats of the same dish. Steamed mussels seemed to be the class favorite. Kanda sighed in relief. When Chef Bruce finally came over to Kanda and Lavi's counter, the redhead stiffened as Kanda stayed calm and just waited.

The stout chef first dipped the one toasted bread onto the golden _rouille_ and ate it, afterwards making sounds indicating it was delicious. Next, he spooned up a cube of what looked like striped bass, getting some of the broth along with it, as he put it in his mouth unhurriedly, giving it a whiff before tasting it. His small eyes then widened and his cheeks blushed, revealing his hazel eyes. He bellowed with praise, "Bouillabaisse! It reminds me so much of my childhood in Provence. _Magnifique_! _Magnifique_!" He nodded hysterically and clapped with little sound then smiled. He seemed more than satisfied when the pair thanked him.

"The bouillabaisse and the rouille are a perfect match. Just like you two, _oui?_" Chef Bruce teased before going to the next counter with a large happy grin on his face. Kanda felt his face flush unknowingly.

Lavi was smiling from ear to ear. Kanda raised a brow at him.

The redhead asked, "You knew that all along, didn't you?"

"Knew what?"

"That he's from Provence."

Kanda wasn't even aware of that. He flashed Lavi an innocent face. "Not really. I just wanted to use a lot of fish."

Lavi laughed, amused. "You are _so_ adorable."

The comment earned him an elbow hitting his rib.

And a blushing face.

* * *

**A/N: This should have been a monthly thing. Sorry.**

**No more French classes for me. I have German this semester. I hope I'll get French again though. Don't be surprised if I have a German fic coming up. Lol.**

**I haven't tasted a bouillabaisse yet, but during my HRM106 class, a pair made one and they won our cook-off. My friend and I made something horrendous. It's something I don't want to talk about. Haha.**

**Anyways, I'd really like to know what you think of this. My schedule's hell. I can only write on Saturdays now. I was planning to update on Kanda's birthday. But June 6 was my first day of classes so that was a no-go.**

**Thanks so much for the faves, alerts, reviews and even the hits. I really appreciate it more than you think ;)**

**EDIT: 4/23/13: When I first wrote this I haven't personally made bouillabaisse before, but I've made it plenty times by now so I sorta changed some cooking parts of the chapter.**


	4. Macarons

_**Les Rêves des Amoureux Sont Comme le Bon Vin**_

* * *

**Recipe Four**

**April**

_**"Macarons"**_

* * *

_**Ingredients:**_

_1 cup almonds_

_1 cup confectioners' sugar_

_5 large egg whites_

_¼ cup superfine sugar_

_½ cup fruit jam or any meringue filling_

* * *

_When Lavi first arrived in Paris, he expected something much, much more exciting._ Paris lured people like honey to Winne the Pooh. His grandfather's work included a lot of traveling, so there was no other choice but to go with the old man. He had to transfer to different schools almost every year and it was hard for him to maintain friendships due to it. Knowing someone for only a year wasn't enough to create a bond thick enough to survive long distance. It was that certain day of the past year, Lavi just got home from school with his New Yorker friends, when his grandfather said, "Pack up, we're moving to Paris."

Thank you, grandpa's wonderful occupation as a historian. Of course, that was enough to make Lavi's eye sparkle and pack his things. Who wouldn't want to live in Paris? It's the City of Lights—and of love, art, cheese, wine, and beautiful French girls. In addition to the fantastic news, his dearest grandpapa mentioned, "We will stay there for a while." It was a long, long time since Lavi heard those words. Usually it would be "in a few days" or "a few weeks or so". But that—that _while_ actually meant years. And who wouldn't want to stay in Paris for many years? Thinking it was a good idea, Lavi agreed instantly and prepared like the flight was on the next day. Like what Audrey Hepburn said in _Sabrina_ — "Paris is always a good idea."

Lavi's expectations included drinking red wine fabulously in classy restaurants, touching every inch of the detailed, historical architecture, living in an apartment filled with elaborate furniture and light blue fleur-de-lis wallpaper, and gold—gold everywhere, _à la Versailles._ But Lavi forgot about his grandfather who would always come up with last minute disappointments.

"I want you to score high in the _bac_. It was a mistake to spoil you all these years so you're going to learn how to live and earn money by yourself. Although I'll be sending you monthly allowance, you're going to work in a friend of mine's place in the 6th. Oh, and you'll be living in an apartment. It's in the 7th arrondissement, so use the Métro to go to work and school. Taxis are expensive and my monthly mail won't have much money for taxis. Your place is small and slightly far from school. It has a nice view, though."

After that painful bombarding, he found himself standing in that small apartment, barely furnished, with a dull wallpaper, and very much alone. Goodbye to wine and restaurants because he probably wouldn't be able to afford it. Goodbye to architecture because going to different arrondissements would take a huge part of his meager allowance. Goodbye to living in luxury since he was stuck in an average apartment in the middle of a residential district. Out of all the places in Paris, he just had to be stuck on the most boring arrondissement. The curtains were stopping light from entering into the sorry excuse of a room. He figured the view would just be apartments and houses and government offices and boring, old—

"Well, holy shit. Would ya look at that…"

Amazed to the point of petrification, he could only stare in magnificence. Well, at least the old man wasn't lying about the view. By his window, he could see the brilliance of the 7th arrondissement and the lovely figure of the Eiffel Tower. If the view was great at day, Lavi couldn't wait to see it at night. That was probably the only thing that made him happy at that point.

He was supposed to work at a place called Le Gris Café first but winded up in another one since he got lost on his first day. He ended up getting a job in a restaurant near the tower. And apparently, having Bookman as a last name could get you into any job in the city. It was surprising how famous his grandpa was in Europe, he wasn't much of an important person back in the States. Sure, he got to appear in History Channel for a few good seconds, but he wasn't quite known in America. Thank heavens the manager could speak English and gave him a few tips around town. His first French acquaintance was the manager, who was also an events manager, and taught him how to use the Métropolitain when he mentioned he was initially assigned to work in a café in St-Germain-des-Prés. The manager suggested he should use the train instead of the taxi since they were said to get more expensive the less French a person was. It was quicker and a heck of a lot cheaper.

The Métro was literally hell on rails. First, Lavi accidentally bought a _carnet_ which already cost him at least eleven Euros, which was already "fourteen-fucking-dollars" as he would say it. It wasn't a bad thing, but he was originally set on buying just one ticket, not ten. Second, it was a few days before November—almost Christmas season, so every person in France was literally on that damn train for some early shopping. Third, it was seven in the morning when he tried riding it—unfortunately; seven was the rush hour of the city. He couldn't wait to get out of the train. As soon as he stepped out of the Métro, he got lost. Again.

One day, he realized he needed furniture. His grandfather spared some money for his material needs and figured he should put it to good use. Technically, he was close to home depots, but, well, he didn't know that so he walked all over town just to find some apartment things. When he realized he was lost again, he tried taking the bus. It was just as bad as the Métro. The traffic was unbearable. At least he got to use his _carnet_ because apparently, the Métro tickets were also bus tickets. In the end, he never got the chance to actually buy anything.

With unpleasant memories on his first days as a Parisian, Lavi's first impression of the capital wasn't that great. His _baccalauréat_ score arrived on his mail and was glad he passed. He went to university every weekday, and then, nothing. Suddenly everything around him was boring. He thought nothing was boring in Paris. He thought that Paris was always a good idea. But there was nothing to do. Buying those adorable macarons was equal to skipping lunch. He wanted to taste one so bad. He was alone and he barely had friends he could hang out with. He couldn't explore the city because he lacked the money, couldn't even spend a night in a fabulous restaurant. To be precise, he was broke and lonely and bored and just really lonely. He wanted to go back to America so much that he actually thought of a plan to escape—which was ironic since France was said to be every man's escapade.

The day he changed his mind to leave the City of Lights was when he found that café he was intended to work for. Bookman called and scolded him for still not getting that job he prepared. Somehow, he wished he could've found it sooner. There was no French employee in sight and everyone working there could speak proper English. They even laughed at his jokes. None of his French classmates laugh at his jokes. And he couldn't tell anyone how delightfully refreshing it felt. His sense of humor never did had its way on the French based on his experience with his schoolmates and his former employment. There, he met the first person who was willing to hang out with him; a pretty Chinese girl named Lenalee. Sadly for him, he couldn't go out with her that much because of her troublesome brother—who also managed the café, putting his only job on the line.

And there he met the most interesting person he had ever met. It wasn't the best first meeting, but he was thankful for it either way. That was when everything completely turned around. Suddenly, the thoughts of ever coming back to the States vanished. Kanda became the biggest reason he stayed in Paris amidst all the poverty and loneliness and traffic and hunger he was experiencing. He wanted to keep working there, and honestly, he wanted to try to live on his own instead of leeching money off from his gramps like he used to. If he gave up, it was like losing to his grandfather's challenge. He was then determined to stop relying on the elderly man. He wanted to prove to his grandfather, to himself, and to Kanda that he could be noble and hardworking at times.

_The 3rd of April was a Wednesday_. Lenalee greeted Lavi with a very wide with her bright eyes and curved lips, she presented a colorful, glossy flyer of an event. Lavi, who had just finished changing into his café uniform and was fixing his tie, raised a brow and looked at the girl with curiosity.

It was a flyer of the Marathon de Paris. Lenalee seemed excited and told him it was next Sunday already. Lavi blinked and thought for a moment. Well, he did want to try going to the international marathon and explore the city, and he was free on the day too, especially since the spring holiday would start. But that would mean he would be losing quite some Euros while he was at it. He had wanted to have some fun in the city he was starting to despise, but he was tired everyday and a marathon would just make him more tired. He scratched his head, hesitating to turn down the young lady. "Ugh, damn it. I'm broke right now, and I'm not quite the runner, y'know…" was his excuse.

He watched how Lenalee kept persuading the other employees if they were willing to go with her to the marathon and how they try their best to reject the nice girl. It was still early in the morning. Lavi and the other staff members arranged the tables outside. It seemed people were more willing to sit outside recently so they added more tables on the terrace. There were only a few people who would be foolish enough to sit inside while spring was beginning to radiate the city. They didn't make a song about April time in Paris for nothing.

The sun just got up in the sky and the café was already crowded both inside and out. The place was busier than the past few days. It took a while before Lavi could rest. A sigh came out from his lips as he tried forcing his legs to go up the steep, narrow staircase toward the employee lounge. He turned up the air conditioner before noticing Lenalee was already inside, sitting on the couch.

"You on break, too?" Lavi asked. She nodded, cheerless. The girl looked sad. Lavi guessed she probably still hadn't found anyone to go with her. "Ugh. I'm so tired I can't feel my fingers anymore. Is the place packed like this during spring?"

"Uhn. It's Wednesday." She bobbed her head. She didn't look at him and was more focused on her cell phone. "There's no school for most kids. And it gets really crowded during April—tourist season, I think."

"Isn't it always peak season here?"

The girl shrugged. "I guess…"

Lavi eyed her and frowned at her lack of interest in talking with him. Was she waiting for a call? Lenalee kept looking at the screen without doing anything and it was starting to worry him. He never liked seeing pretty girls gloom over small things. He wanted to cheer her up. "So, found anyone to come with ya to the marathon?"

She smiled faintly at him, and somehow it broke Lavi's heart. "No, not yet. I think I won't be going anymore." Lavi stayed quiet. He was torn between going with her or resting for the weekend.

Finding the silence uncomforting, Lenalee asked, "Hey Lavi, don't you like marathons?"

Lavi switched his attention to Lenalee. He groaned at the question. "It's not that I dislike it," he said. "I'm just having a hard time here, you know, trying to be frugal and all that stuff. Living in any part of Europe is too expensive. I guess… I'm tired more often than I was in other places I've been. The taxis here are practically _thieves_. Well, it's good to do some walking from time to time."

The girl laughed. "You plan on buying a car, right?"

"I was thinking about that the other day," he said, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought. "But then I thought; the gas would definitely be a problem. Though gas in New York is just as expensive…"

Lenalee gasped in surprise. "You've been in New York? I've always wanted to go there!"

Usually, Lavi hated people who thought New York was the greatest city in the world. He couldn't help but mark Lenalee as an exception though. She looked cute when she was in awe. "Yeah, I used to live there before I moved here. Now that I remember it, there was a huge marathon there last year. T'was too crowded so I didn't participate."

"That's so cool…" Lenalee muttered in amazement.

Lavi chuckled and smiled gently at her. "I'll take you there someday." If that would ever happen, he would make sure she wouldn't know the evil side of the city.

He spent his break talking about the good things in New York. And because Lenalee looked so enthusiastic listening to him, he told her more stories. He left out the bad things like how McDonald's was two times more expensive, how the traffic—both car and foot—was even worse than that in Paris, how he spent half a day trying to find a space to park, how the subways always smelled because it was so dirty, how rude the people are, etcetera. That was why he hated people who thought that New York was the most magical place in the universe when it was really not. He actually liked it more when he stayed in a relative's farmhouse in Iowa for three days.

It was then Reever shouted from behind the door that their break was over. Lenalee was the first to stand up. Her mood had lightened up after all the stories he told. Lavi was relieved.

"Time to go back to work!" She said excitedly, eyes shining. She didn't have the mood to work an hour ago but now the girl seemed energized. "I'm still getting the hang of being a _pâtissier_."

Lavi was amazed how she can be a waitress the past day and be a pastry chef the next. Just what exactly was her work in the cafe? She looked more like a freelancer more than anything. He joked at her enthusiasm, "_Pâtissier_? All you do is help Tapp make macarons."

Offended, Lenalee corrected him, "I-I don't just _help_. I _make_ macarons!" She crossed her arms and added with a tinge of pride, "I make _petits fours_ too! It's really small, you know! So it's hard to make! I have the perfect hands to make them!"

"O—f course you do."

Lenalee pouted at his sarcasm.

"Your break is long finished. Get going already. We need more runners." Feeling a bit ignored, Reever added, "Hey Lavi. Guess who just came in?" Lavi's ears perked and his senses tingled.

He went downstairs and searched for Kanda, but when he glanced at his usual place, he wasn't there and instead a rather fashionable woman was occupying it.

Lavi didn't expect that a new employee would cause a huge discrepancy with his relationship with Kanda. He was in panic. There was no time to think. His gaze traveled to the terrace. Kanda, in all his non-uniform glory, wearing a beige double-breasted spring coat, was sitting at the cafe's terrace, looking pissed as hell.

"Excuse me, um, did I do something wrong?"

The one who questioned him tapped his shoulder, strangely not possessing any signs of regret. The new employee was from a far place he heard, but was still from the Left Bank. He had a very distinct accent, like he wasn't from France, as a matter of fact; the accent wasn't French at all. It was Scouse—a very obvious Scouse. Kid must be from Liverpool.

Lavi answered with a totally unrelated question, "Do you know what the _Brigade de Cuisine_ is?"

Confused, the new employee named Allen Walker just went with the flow, "Umm… no? I don't speak French very well."

The redhead clicked his tongue continuously in pretend disappointment. "You're in the food industry and you don't know?"

"I just got a job here 'cause I need to pay huge debts."

Lavi ignored him purposely. "It's the brigade system of the kitchen." he stopped shortly, trying to create an intimidating pause. The new trainee thought Lavi was just pretending to be knowledgeable about the food industry, as he just recently learned that word two days ago from cooking class with Kanda. "The _chef de cuisine_ is in charge of everything in the kitchen. You know who that is here?"

The boy thought for a few seconds. "Mr. Wenham?"

"Wrong! It's Jerry!" Lavi spun around to face the new kid. "What about the _pâtissier_? Who's the _pâtissier?"_

"Uh… Lenalee?"

"Wro—well, kinda. But she just make macarons, so she doesn't count! She's just a macaron... isier or something."

"Okay…?" The pale-haired boy narrowed his eyes. What a weird guy, he thought.

"What about me? What am I in the brigade?" Lavi stared at poor Allen's eyes like he was about to destroy him if he said the wrong answer. But it didn't work on the newbie, rather, he was feeling regret for getting into his new job at that very second.

"A waiter?" he answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh. Oh-ho-ho. No, I'm not _just_ a waiter. I'm the Président-directeur Général of Chair-and-Table Vacancy!"

"What the bloody hell is that?" It was only half French and Allen was already confused. The boy couldn't hold the level of strange in the being in front of him.

"You just gave that table over there to a customer!" Lavi pointed at the table by the window—Kanda's corner where a woman sat.

The boy rolled his eyes. "Naturally. She was a customer."

"No! That's not how you do it here!"

"What do you mean?"

"It means you did something very wrong and you just totally ruined my daily chance of gaining plus points!" Lavi's voice changed from fake restaurant manager to heartbroken teenager who just got rejected by the cute girl in school. "Now, go back to the kitchen!"

Lavi went to Kanda's unwanted table but not before getting a tray with a nice cup of Café Noisette and a plate of pink macarons, courtesy of Lenalee. "Yu!" Lavi called out, but not after thinking how the smartly cut coat fitted Kanda. When he set it down on Kanda's table, the man didn't appear so impressed.

He got the coffee right, although he was still incredulous about Lavi's ability to know what to order. On the other hand, the macarons looked rather strange from the ones he would usually make or buy.

"Sorry your seat got taken. It's pretty crowded today, so the other waiters probably gave it away," Lavi apologized, but still wore his radiant smile. "From now on, I'll be your Président-directeur Général of Chair-and-Table Vacancy."

Kanda was confused for a moment and then reddened. He didn't know whether to be grateful or to be mad. "Then do your job better next time."

Aside from the fact that there were no other seats available, Lavi thought it would be a waste to sit inside when it was warm and vibrant. Lavi smiled gently at him. "Come on, it's spring, ya need to get soaked up with some sun after winter."

Kanda looked away from Lavi and took off his coat. His face was heating up for some reason. It must be the sun. "F-Fine. It's not that warm anyway." True; the air was chilly but the sun gave off warmth that balanced perfectly with the cold.

"Right? Sitting here gives you a pretty nice view."

"I can see the same view indoors."

Lavi frowned. "It wouldn't be the same. Inside, you'd be feeling man-made cooling. In here, you feel the natural wind." He smartly replied. "So, how's the macaron?"

"This…" he paused before poking the said macaron with a fork. The pastel-colored dessert almost broke down from its form as the filling began to ooze down. "Who made it?"

Lavi was hesitant to answer. He gulped. Kanda knew something was off. "Well, Lena did. She wants you to taste it. She told me she was a pastry chef, but really, all she can make are macarons..."

Kanda took a bite. He didn't look too pleased. "Undercooked. The crust should be crispy, not soft. The texture should be overall smooth, but there are bumps everywhere. Obviously, she didn't crush the almonds well. It's also over-filled. You better not serve this to other customers. Get me a better one."

The shocked waiter stared at the critic who looked at the macaron with disappointment. "W-Wow, you're really something." He rubbed his neck sheepishly. "I can't… tell her that, y'know. You wouldn't want to hurt her feelings."

"She won't learn if you don't point out her mistakes."

"I'll try my best to tell her that, then." Although, he ended up not saying it to Lenalee.

_And so, Kanda decided to make macarons the following day when they were assigned to bake anything for class. _The chef whose specialty was baking and desserts was Chef Bartolomé—a rather Hispanic woman, fair-skinned, tall with broad shoulders and possessed the habit of biting the hands of her eyeglasses. She told stories of how she worked as a pastry chef in a five-star restaurant in the Sin City after graduating in the Las Vegas branch of Le Cordon Bleu. She was a favorite among the students for being a push-over, although she was strict with uniform regulations.

"Monsieur Bookman. Your pants and shoes are not allowed." the female chef mentioned as soon as Lavi entered the food laboratory wearing blue jeans and sneakers. "Jeans are strictly prohibited! Do you see anyone here wearing pants other than the ones given by the school?" Lavi looked around, then shook his head. Other chefs hadn't had a problem with it. "Next week, I want to see you wearing the houndstooth pants and black clogs. Do you understand?"

"Y-Yes ma'am." He went over to Kanda's counter, sighing.

"Now, let me repeat once again for the latecomers." she narrowed her eyes at them, including Lavi, who was late for ten minutes. "Today is like any other of my Thursdays. You will bake, but without recipes I've given beforehand. I don't care what, I just want to see the food that I will grade will be cooked in an oven, sweet and baked. In short, a dessert. Groups by two's or three's. I don't really care, just give me a paper with the list of the members. Now go, make haste."

Macarons were the dessert Kanda wanted to make. He was always the one who would check and eavesdrop on the other student chefs' plans before making a move, to avoid making the same meal. He heard one of the girls say, "Oh, Elise! Let's make Pots de Creme au Gingembre!". The counter in front of him had two men who was arguing between an Apple Charlotte or a classic Apple Tart.

"_Bonjour, partner, _what are we making today?" Lavi asked with a trying-hard French accent and leaned on the counter next to Kanda.

Kanda looked sharply at him. "Who said you can be my partner?"

"Me, since I already submitted the paper to our lady chef."

Kanda's eye twitched.

"And besides, lady chef said working alone is not allowed and said you should talk to your classmates more," Lavi added, and smiled at him.

Meanwhile, their chef shouted from across the room, "Monsieur Bookman! Fix your hair! If I see one strand of red hair on your dessert, you two will automatically fail!" Kanda cringed when he heard the word "fail".

Lavi raised his eyes. "Does she mean this?" He asked Kanda, pinching his long bangs with his fingers. He went over to his bag to find his bandana. "Damn, where did I put it?"

A bit irritated that Lavi was taking too long, Kanda grunted in frustration. Then, he saw a flash of green when Lavi turned. He sighed again. Was he such an idiot to forget his headband in the back pockets of his rule-breaking jeans? When Kanda snatched the green piece of cloth, the man didn't even notice. He wouldn't do very well in the pickpocketing streets of Paris. "Idiot, here's your tacky headband." When Lavi turned around, Kanda took him by surprise when he harshly put on the bandana around Lavi's neck, then pushed it back pass his forehead, taking his forelock with it.

Suddenly realizing what he had just done, Kanda's blue eyes widened. He blushed furiously and turned his back on Lavi. "H-Hurry up! We're making macarons, s-so make yourself useful and get some almonds from the pantry!" He ordered, then hurried to the oven, preheating it to toast the almonds.

He didn't know that Lavi was just as red and boyishly covered half of his face with his hands to hide his features. Thank god everyone was too busy preparing utensils to notice them, "Uh, y-yeah, sure, how—how much do ya need?" It was so not like him to stutter and blush like a silly schoolgirl.

"Just a cup."

And so they officially began. Kanda ordered Lavi to do the simple task of separating the egg whites from the yolk and whisking the egg whites. Kanda questioned him when Lavi looked a bit hesitant.

"I'm not really good at cracking eggs," Lavi said, his hands shaking while holding a fragile, white egg. Kanda sighed and just told him to get it over with. He tried to crack one and failed, destroying the shell a bit too much as it oozed down together with the whites. "I told you I'm not good with—"

"Pfft."

He stopped when he spotted a rather evident smile on Kanda's lips. It was obvious he was holding back a laugh. Was he laughing at his failed attempt to simply crack an egg? He looked so adorable Lavi could die. He was blushing furiously by then.

"You're laughing...?"

"Because even a child could crack an egg," Kanda replied, surprisingly not denying Lavi's accusation. The more experienced student chef walked over to Lavi's side and grabbed one egg. "There's really no technique to it. Just tap until it cracks a bit…" he said as he broke the shell slightly on the edge of the stainless steel bowl. "Then use your thumb to separate the shell." Just as he finished explaining, the inside fell on the bowl perfectly, no shell bits in it, yolk unharmed. He noticed Lavi wasn't responding so he faced him, making eye contact.

Lavi was too busy looking at Kanda and not how perfectly he cracked the egg, and so when he tried to do it again, he tapped the egg on the edge of the bowl, but it ended up squished in his hands. He was nervous with Kanda watching him. "Can I just do something else?"

And there he thought Lavi knew the basics. He gutted fishes once, and now he couldn't even crack an egg. Kanda sighed, but not entirely with negative feelings. "You're hopeless. I'll crack the eggs, you whip them."

Instead of using the stand mixer, Kanda gave Lavi the handheld one.

"Isn't it easier to use that one?" Lavi asked, pointing at a neglected stand mixer.

"Easier to control. Try it." Lavi nodded, placing the mixer diagonally on the glass bowl filled with egg whites. Kanda clicked his tongue. "No, stupid, that's not how you mix it. Don't slant it. You don't want to put air into the eggs, so mix it like this." He snatched the mixer away from Lavi's hands and placed it vertically and directly above the bowl.

"Alright." Lavi imitated his actions and pressed the farthest button to the right.

"Wrong. Too fast." Kanda switched it off again. "Start slow. If you don't do this, the eggs would be too fluffy and would make the macarons look like shit."

Lavi rubbed his face with his hands. "Jesus, it's just eggs. No wonder Lenalee always fuck up." He hadn't told Lenalee that Kanda insulted her macarons, but it was a good thing Tapp, the coffee shop's pastry chef, did before he could.

As he mixed with the handheld device, Kanda dropped the confectioner's sugar on the whisked eggs, which was starting to look like really soft marshmallows. "Turn the speed up." Lavi did what he was told and was surprised that when he raised the mixer, the whites turned really stiff and was sticking to the blades.

Kanda didn't hear him when he asked what to do next since he went over to the oven to get the toasted almonds which turned into a lovely brown and emitted a sweet fragrance. Lavi, who was on stand-by, watched Kanda put the almonds onto a food processor, added the sugar, and pureed it. After a few minutes, the almonds and sugar became completely grounded.

Kanda called Lavi's attention. "Make sure everything is dissolved." After Lavi's approval, Kanda mixed in his almond mixture into the whites little by little with a rubber spatula. When Lavi noticed Kanda was getting tired of folding the new mixture on the bowl, he offered to help. He took the rubber spatula and vigorously folded the almond powder over the whites. Kanda stopped him, saying he should do it more carefully as to not let the egg whites overwork.

"Go heat the oven." Kanda told his partner. When Lavi came back after preheating the oven, the shorter man asked, "What color would you like?"

"Huh? Why?"

"For the macarons."

"Green! Mint green!" the one-eyed boy energetically answered, not expecting Kanda to care about what color he'd want his macarons to be. Kanda raised a brow at him, but took a green food coloring anyway. "It's not my favorite color, but I've always wanted to taste those mint chocolate ones, and green really looks like mint."

Just then, one of the pairs that was already finished butted in. "Whoa, you guys are making macarons? Save some for us! We'll give you some of our raspberry cake once it's done."

"Me too! Are you gonna put strawberry in it?"

"Mine's chocolate!"

Lavi thought Kanda would be mad at them, so he was ready to stop him if he wanted to say something bad. But Kanda agreed to the requests. He wasn't such a selfish prick as he initially thought.

"Clean the counters," Kanda told him. "I'll handle the rest." the redhead asked him if he was sure, but replied with angry words and commanded him to just do whatever he was told until the macaronage is done.

While Lavi washed some of the bowls and kitchenware used, Kanda divided the batter into two bowls, one for him and one for Lavi's green ones. After putting a pinch of green coloring onto one of the bowls and sneaking in some pure mint into the mix, Lavi asked him as he washed, "So, what color are yours?"

"Red," Kanda replied, for some reason hiding the mint from Lavi. "Bright red."

"Favorite color?" Kanda just bobbed his head once. Lavi wondered, "Huh, I thought your favorite color was blue, violet, or black, or something." Kanda ignored him, and so Lavi focused more on his cleaning duties. The taller man wasn't aware that Kanda had already put the macaron shells inside the oven.

"Aw, come on, I didn't get the chance to squeeze the bag thingy you use to make the batter shapes." Lavi pouted and stared sadly at the macaron shields being heated inside the oven. "You should've called me."

"You would've fucked it up, so I didn't."

"That's not true!"

"You can't even crack a goddamn egg."

"You're great at teaching me. I might've perfected the damn thing."

Again with the flattery and that candid smile, Kanda fairly blushed and turned away. After ten minutes, he opened the oven to turn the sheet pans around in order to bake the macarons evenly. Another ten minutes, the oven dinged as Lavi helped him take the lovely shells out of the oven, placing it on the counters to let it cool off. The other students began to surround them, offering their finished products.

"Oh, I found some Nutella in the pantry earlier! Can we put that on mine?" Lavi asked, getting all jumpy like a child. "I fucking love Nutella." The French loved Nutella as much as how Americans loved their peanut butter. Lavi sure wasn't French but he adored that lovely, chocolate-y, hazel nut spread.

"Fine, go get it." Kanda agreed. "Take the raspberry jam too."

"Got ya." He left for the pantry, but not before flashing a smile.

Kanda then put some of the hazel nut spread on the bottom of one light green macaron shell, and afterwards pressed the other shell onto it, making it look like a hamburger with green buns and chocolate patties. He did it similarly to his fiery red macarons, only with raspberry fruit jam and whip cream on the sides, then put it in the chiller.

The moment the macarons cooled down and fattened, Kanda and Lavi submitted their work and Chef Bartolomé loved it, although she kept the grade a secret. Then, the students came flooding in and were asking for some. Kanda was kind enough to give them a few, but he reserved specific macarons for him and Lavi.

Kanda's macarons were very different from the ones Lenalee made and finally understood what Kanda meant when he criticized the girl's attempts. One bite from the minty chocolate dessert and Lavi was all over him. "You're so goddamn amazing, damn it!" He took a bite again, to the soft yet crunchy little hamburger-look-alike and realized, it didn't just look like mint, it tasted like mint, too. He wondered and said, "That's weird, I didn't notice you put mint in the mixture earlier." Kanda just kept quiet.

"That's not fair! Why does Lavi's macaron have more chocolate than this one?" One of the female students complained, comparing the piece she was holding to the one Lavi was consuming.

Lavi stopped chewing and again examined the macarons Kanda reserved for him. It _was_ a little thicker than the others. Another one said, "Aw, I want more Nutella too."

Kanda got all flushed and embarrassed and tried to ignore the comments. Lavi found himself smiling. "Oh, Yu. Were you favoring me unconsciously?"

"As if."

Because he was favoring him intentionally.

There was no way he couldn't say that out loud to his face. He heard Lavi let out a low laugh and said cynically, "If you say so."

"Those who are done are free to leave, clean up your workplaces before going," Chef Bartolomé reminded as the students cheered in glee and sighed with exhaustion. They were supposed to be dismissed at four, but since they finished early, they were allowed to leave when it was still one in the afternoon. "And don't forget your little homework! We'll see who'll make the best Meringue Cakes next week!"

When everyone finished cleaning up their work stations and began heading outside, Lavi told Kanda in a soft voice, "Come at the café early tomorrow." After that, he walked ahead of Kanda and opened the door outside, leaving a flushed Kanda inside.

_On that certain Friday morning, Kanda went to the café as told. _It was still very early, yet there were many people vacating the seats inside, warming themselves with coffee. He didn't know what to expect when he arrived, and he sure as hell didn't expect a mysterious box planted on the center of his usual table. He sat down and took off his coat, figuring out whether to open it or not. It was as big as a medium-sized ramekin and when he held it in his hands, it felt light as if nothing was inside. But when he shook the carton, something was definitely rattling in it. Maybe, it wasn't for him. It wasn't like he was the only one who sat at the same spot. He took notice of the words on the top cover: _"Not only do you fill my stomach with the world's tastiest macarons, but you also fill my stomach with these."_

In spite of everything he just read, he still denied it was for him. Perhaps someone made macarons the other day, too? He sighed, giving up. That was definitely for him, and he knew that it was definitely from Lavi. Assured that it was harmless, he opened the red box only to find a horde of butterflies inside. Before he even realized they were butterflies, the beautiful winged creatures flew away all around inside the room, startling some of the customers. No one seemed to mind to the point of complaining. Each and every butterfly was beautiful, each a different color, giving the café the dash of spring that it had been needing, giving the place a rather scenic spectacle.

Kanda couldn't disagree that they looked wonderful, but he couldn't decode the note. "Butterflies…? In a stomach…?" he asked himself. Why would someone even have butterflies in their stomachs? He wasn't quite well-informed with idioms. But he was sure Lavi pulled that little show off. Although he wasn't quite certain what the boy was trying to say. He had never heard of such things being inside a stomach.

"So pretty…!" Lenalee said as he walked over to Kanda's table, looking at the butterflies scattering as she held a tray to her chest. Though, she thought it was a waste when Reever hurriedly opened the doors and windows to let the butterflies out. "I wonder who released them."

"Where's that bastard?" Kanda asked immediately.

She snapped her attention back to Kanda. "Oh, you mean Lavi?" Lenalee looked around. "I think, he's in the lounge—" Before she could finish, Kanda had already made his way to the employee's rest room upstairs, where Lavi was nowhere to be found. Lenalee followed him and was surprised the redhead wasn't in the room. "Huh…I was sure he was here a while ago. He came here when the shop was still closed."

"Never mind. I'm going to class."

Lenalee eyed him suspiciously as the bemused man went down the stairs with loud footsteps and headed straight out.

Going to class didn't help giving him some closure since Lavi did not appear at any of their lectures. He wanted to ask the chef present if he knew why, but that would be something too strange for him to do. Why was he worrying over Lavi for anyway? The guy just gave him a box of butterflies, saying they were in his stomach. That wasn't something to be worried about, unless he really _did_ have those insects in his gut. That would be very unsettling. But it was Lavi he was talking about. He was the kind to play around and do absurd things. In a word, he was very unpredictable.

After going through the lectures without the one-eyed man, Kanda suddenly had second thoughts of going to the café. He wasn't scared, just a little unsure he supposed. He couldn't come up with a way to ask the redhead about the butterflies. His mind had been fuzzy all day—thinking of Lavi's absence and those goddamn butterflies.

He had thoughts of not going to the café at all, but then he realized that he had forgotten his coat when he came by that morning. He refused to go home without that coat. Why? Because it was an Agnés B. coat. Only a mad man could leave an Agnés B. coat. And he was not capable of leaving an Agnés B. coat all alone in a café where anyone could just simply touch its cambresine fabric. He called Reever to keep it in a safe place until his next visit.

That was why he did anyway. It was night time and Le Gris Café was all lightened up with its Art Deco lamps. The bell above the door rang and _bonjours_ were heard. Kanda just nodded his head to them. He would be considered as rude to normal Parisian coffee shops for not saying hello back, but he was part of the café's family and they knew him since he was a child, so they didn't mind anymore. Luckily when he looked around, Lavi wasn't waiting tables, presumably in the lounge or kitchen, getting the dishes for serving, giving Kanda more time to think. He marched to his everyday spot. He reminded himself to ask for his coat once Lenalee takes his order.

"Good evening. What will you be having?"

It felt weird. He wasn't used to being asked anymore. He turned his attention to the waiter. Was he another new employee? He had a scar on one side of the face and looked completely white. He looked like a freaking albino. Kanda wondered why Reever would hire someone like him. He looked young, too, most likely the same age as Lenalee, or younger.

"Get me some coffee, brat," He spat out, not even looking at the offended person beside him.

The waiter, poor Mr. Allen Walker, twitched. He responded politely, fighting back to urge to punch the guy. He was warned by his guardian about how rude the French were. He wasn't narrow-minded and didn't believe it, but meeting Kanda kind of changed his mind. "O-Of course, sir." He walked away. When he was reasonably far from the unfriendly, feminine man, he muttered under his breath. "I cannot _stand_ these bloody French…!"

Allen returned with a simple cup of brewed coffee, but with a little Gris Café twist.

Kanda blinked twice before speaking, "What the fuck is this?"

"Coffee. You said coffee. I presumed it would be the house blend," Allen answered, trying to convince Kanda to just take the damn coffee.

"I—" Kanda closed his mouth to stop. He _did _say "coffee" and nothing else. He decided to be considerate. He was too accustomed of saying "tea" or "coffee" and then just leave the rest of the specifics to Lavi. Before he could ask Allen to get him a caffé latte instead, a familiar voice interrupted him.

"Yo, Allen. I'll handle this one," someone said suddenly, touching Allen's shoulder.

"Thank fucking god," Allen rejoiced and exited without hesitation.

Ocean blue eyes glanced up to meet a lonely green eye as Frank Sinatra's _April in Paris_ began to play in the background. How dramatic.

"I'm guessing Allen got you the wrong one?" Lavi fathomed with a nice smile, shadowing over him. He took away the wrong cup. "He's new. Don't be too hard on him. I was new once, so I know the feeling."

Kanda sighed and rubbed his temples. "Just get me another." He was tired from the lectures, and Lavi appearing so sudden like that made his migraine more terrible. He hated lectures, unless they were supposed to help him be better at cooking. But the lecture he just recently endured was all about viruses and bacteria. He practiced safety in food handling, and he got a good grade in food sanitation the previous year, so he found the lecture to be of no use.

Minutes later, Lavi came back with, shockingly, a café latte, guessing it right once again.

Kanda just stared at the cup of brown liquid being covered by a thin layer of foam. Maybe Lavi could really read minds. He wanted to ask so many things, but first things first. Kanda opened his mouth to ask, gulping before doing so, "Hey, what's the deal with that box?"

"Hm? What box?"

"That… that _box_, with the butte—"

Then Reever called out, "Lavi, shift's over."

Lavi smiled wryly before saying, "I'll be in the lounge if you need me."

"Ah—" Yet again, Kanda could not speak. Maybe he should try another time. Relaxing on his seat, he took his time to drink the warm coffee, careful not to burn his lips when sipping from the hot cup.

It was getting late, and Lavi would be working until eight if he wasn't mistaken. He looked at his watch and stretched. It was already seven. Standing up, he walked over and casually barged in the kitchen looking for the Chinese girl as if he was an employee himself. No one cared, though. He was part of the family, even if he didn't work there.

"What do you need?" Lenalee asked sweetly when came in, dropping a pile of dirty plates on the deep sink.

"My coat," Kanda said in his low voice. "I'm going home after I get it."

She paused for a second. Her amethyst eyes brightened. "Oh, your coat! Johnny found it on your chair, said he left it at the lounge. We figured it was yours. You had a thing for designer coats."

He wasn't sure if that was even a compliment. He stiffened. Wait, Lavi was in the lounge. "C-Can you get it for me?"

"I'm pretty busy, I have to get back on the floor," Lenalee declined truthfully. "Since when were you so lazy? It's just upstairs, you know."

That was mortifying, being scolded by his female friend that is. He inhaled before exhaling loudly. He shouldn't be nervous about something so trivial. He was just going to ask. It wasn't anything special.

The stairs to the lounge were awfully too steep for his liking, and the walls surrounding it were too narrow and dark. He saw the mahogany door and then opened it almost instantly. Lavi laid there on the touch, his vest unbuttoned and his bow tie in one side, playing some sort of rhythm game on his iPhone. His hair was held back by a headband instead of the wax-to-one-side style for presentation, since waiters were supposed to look neat and professional.

"Oh, hey!" Lavi sat up in a hurry, noticing Kanda, who began to walk over and open drawers of all furniture existing in the room.

Kanda was in the room, alone with him. When he said he'd be in the lounge if Kanda needed him, he didn't actually expect the said man would come. "Ya looking for somethin'?"

"My coat. I left it here," the black-haired man replied, still searching in the drawers, disliking the fact that there was too much unnecessary furniture in the lounge.

"Lemme help you find it," Lavi insisted and stood up. "What does it look like?"

"Agnés B."

"How very specific," he said in a soft voice and with obvious sarcasm. Kanda didn't seem to hear it. It sounded like some kind of fashion brand. He assumed it was a designer coat. Lavi wasn't into branded clothes. All his clothes were simply from department stores and mall outlets. He was a bit culture-shocked on his first days in Paris, though. Everyone, both men and women, were just so chic, that his usual V-neck from Gap and his flap-pocket cargos earned him repulsed looks in the streets. His liking for scarves did help though, especially when every guy that passed guy somehow wore a scarf.

"You know…" Lavi started, having the urge to tell a story. He walked over to a cabinet and searched as he talked. "I had high expectations when I first came here."

Kanda stopped his tracks and looked at him. He mocked, "What did _you_ expect? Women, wine, cheese, and the Eiffel Tower?"

Lavi laughed because he was actually right. "I can't say I didn't. I mean, this city is always in movies and TV. And I thought: wow, it must be great living there." He observed Kanda, he seemed to be listening, so he continued, "I was just… disappointed. Aside from the fact that my grandfather left me here with little financial help and a vague explanation on how things work, it really disappointed me. It kinda broke my heart."

"Paris isn't really different from any city. I hate how people always think Paris is the best city in the world." Kanda mused, somehow forgetting he was looking for something.

Lavi inwardly chuckled. He thought the same about New York. "I guess there isn't a perfect city. Everyone just thinks how beautiful and artsy Paris is, thinking living here would be picture-perfect. They never thought living here is the same as living in fucking Zurich. I shouldn't be really saying that, since that was my way of thinking when I got in here. Everything is expensive. My apartment is expensive, the food, furniture, clothes, taxis… and though I got 'round to that and stuff, I still feel broke every time I go home."

"Do you want to leave?" Kanda asked, out of interest. For him to talk that much was never unusual when it came to Lavi. He had always made him talk more than he should.

Lavi pursed his lips. "Well, yeah. I won't lie that I thought of leaving."

"It isn't so bad living here," Kanda muttered quietly. "Like you said, there's no perfect city. There's always a downside everywhere you go. Moving won't make much of a difference."

Lavi couldn't even believe what he was hearing. It sounded like Kanda was trying to convince him not to leave the City of Lights. He found himself looking outside the tall window. His eye widened. April was known for the blooming daffodils, lilies, and rosemary, but it was also known for its sudden rainstorms. He hadn't noticed it was raining. "I didn't say I wanted to leave now. Something changed my mind."

"Like what?"

"This café." Lavi paused, bracing for what he would be saying next. "Specifically, you."

Kanda blinked as his eyes widened at Lavi's words. Thank god they weren't facing each other. He wouldn't want Lavi to see what kind of face he was making. Was he being serious?

"Those butterflies. I'm guessin' you don't get it." He looked at Kanda again, who was now pretending to ignore him. Lavi held back a chuckle. It was easy for him to get something like a box of butterflies. He still had contact with his manager from his previous work, who knew people and places that sells those frills and confetti used in parties and events. The orange-headed waiter walked over to a stout oak dresser adjacent to the sofa. He opened one of the drawers and found a wrinkled fabric in it. He blinked twice before realizing. "Is this your coat?" He asked and presented it to him.

Kanda's eyes twitched. His coat was all wrinkled. He marched and snatched it from Lavi's hand. It looked horrible and creased. "That—that Johnny… I'm going to kill him!" He said menacingly, his hands trying to iron the fabric.

Before Kanda could say anymore, Lavi stepped forward. The move brought him in front of Kanda. The student chef's brows flew up. His heart suddenly began to beat faster. His stomach fluttered nervously at the closeness. He was too stunned to protest.

"Do you feel that?" Lavi asked in a barely audible voice.

"F-Feel what?" Every time Kanda stepped back, Lavi would always fill up the gap and stride forward. He swallowed. His heart raced like crazy.

"Your stomach. Doesn't it feel like there are butterflies inside?" Lavi smiled softly, his voice solemn. If that was what he meant with the butterflies, there sure was a lot in his stomach right now. Kanda could only widen his eyes and open his mouth, only to close it again for he couldn't speak, feeling all kinds of anxiety. "If you feel that…"

Lavi moved forward again. There was only an inch difference in their height, but as Lavi was starting to close the space between them, and as Kanda kept staggering the opposite way, it took him by surprise when the backs of his thighs hit the low armrests of the sofa. He gasped and fell backwards; impulsively pulling the other man down on top of him, grunting as he felt Lavi's weight perched hard on him and the softness of the couch on his back.

Kanda knew something was wrong from the very beginning. Because whenever Lavi's shift was over, the usual thing he would do was sit with him, and he didn't at that time, he just went up to the lounge. He was lured into a trap before he even knew it. Now they were in that awkward position. It didn't matter if Lavi planned it or not. If he didn't leave in the next second, his heart wouldn't be able to take it anymore.

Lavi pushed up, looking down at the surprised man under him. "The first time you went into my mind, you never left." He huffed a bit.

"S-Stop..." was the only word Kanda could muster.

"I was attracted to you out of curiosity, and somehow, as I force myself into your life, as I meet other people… I figured that you're different. You just fascinate me," Lavi confessed. Even he was surprised. He didn't know when it happened, but suddenly he wanted Kanda all to himself.

"Lav—" the supposed to be protest from Kanda died on his lips as Lavi descended. Their muscles tensed, almost to a painful strain. Their eyes intuitively closed as Lavi's lips brushed Kanda's in the most fleeting and most tender peck, barely a kiss at all. They looked at each other for a while, searching for something in their eyes. By the time Lavi would lean in for another one…

"G-Get off!" Kanda pushed hysterically, but didn't nudge Lavi a tiny bit. He held his position. Kanda clutched his shoulders and tried to shove the man off again. "I know you're just playing around—!"

"I'm not playing around. I'm serious," Lavi said earnestly, still maintaining eye contact.

"Get off!" He repeated, again and again, but Lavi didn't falter and pinned him tightly below him.

"If you don't like it so much, why aren't you pushing hard enough?"

It struck Kanda, leaving him vulnerable with those naïve blue eyes. "God, you're so goddamn adorable," Lavi accused in a grunting voice as he took Kanda's face in his hands, and kissed him, harder this time. When Kanda slightly opened his mouth and reciprocated, Lavi smiled against his lips, continuing the kiss for two more breaths before pulling away.

"You kissed back," Lavi uttered with a smile, resting his forehead against Kanda's. A slight amount of warmth puffed across their lips, feeling each other's breaths.

"I wasn't kissing back…! I was pushing you away!"

"Yeah, with your mouth."

Thank god he forgot his Agnés B. coat.

* * *

**A/N: Here's a long chapter to compensate for all the months I did not update. Hopefully, this chapter filled your appetite. I went to Cafe Provence earlier with my mother and suddenly acquired the inspiration to write this. I have French again in the second semester, hurray! Don't confuse macarons with macaroons. They are very different from each other.**

**I'd really like to make this a monthly thing now, if that's still possible. Do read and review, it helps a lot :)**

**Also, red is Kanda's actual favorite color based on the latest character book. I think Lavi's favorite is orange, though**

**EDIT: 5/13/13: Changed some few dialogues.**


	5. Coq au Vin

_**Les Rêves des Amoureux Sont Comm'e le Bon Vin**_

* * *

**Recipe Five**

**May**

_**"Coq au Vin"**_

* * *

_**Ingredients:**_

_1 chicken (3 to 4 pounds)_

_1 onion, diced_

_3 tablespoons flour_

_3 shallots, sliced_

_4 garlic cloves, sliced_

_2 cups full-bodied red wine_

_1 1/2 cups beef stock_

_1 teaspoon tomato paste_

_bouquet garni_

_20 pearl onions, peeled_

_1/2 pound smoked slab bacon_

_1/2 pound mushroom_

_salt and pepper, to taste_

* * *

_It was raining on that certain Saturday morning, but the outdoors looked bright as always. _Kanda still kept the windows open as the rain was completely falling vertically and wasn't distracting his small little garden veranda. The sun seemed too forced, but then again the view remained to look like a perfect spring day. He wiped the sweat on his forehead with the lower hem of his shirt, staining the pure white cloth. He exhaled aloud and placed his hands on his hips, standing on the middle of the room to examine the entire area.

He didn't have many things, only purchasing furniture for the sake of practicality and sometimes for slight decoration. He made sure everything was authentic and useful and was exactly what he imagined in his mind, an oddity to someone so simple. His furniture was composed of French-style sets and fixtures, with the color combinations of one or two colors, sometimes three—white, beige and cream. The white upholstered chaise lounge and rectangular coffee table in the center of the room matched colors with the fireplace, a golden chandelier directly above it. The chandelier was already there when his uncle bought the place and had no plans of removing it, since it seemed to give the room a bright dash of color. The exquisite, lightly-carved armchairs were on either side of the coffee table. Light wooden carvings were a common sight in his cabinets and chairs, and they were either white or cream yellow and placed adeptly inside an area.

He had just finished dusting and waxing the living room, a perfect start of his yearly spring cleaning. He removed the rubber gloves he was wearing and placed it near a bucket and some cleaning solvents. He flopped down on the perfectly white sofa. He re-checked his cleaning list from his mind. The rugs and curtains still needed to be washed, and although the furnishings on the living room were clean, the lights, walls and ceilings weren't. But that was because he couldn't find the feather duster as he couldn't remember if he threw it away a long time ago.

He relaxed for a bit and switched on the LED television just across the mentioned chaise lounge, not actually minding the show, just wanting to hear someone talking. A 1980's movie came up, and if he remembered correctly it was called _L'Amie de mon amie_. His relaxation was cut off short when a knock on the door was heard. He grunted angrily in reaction and stood up. It must be the mailman or something.

He regretted not looking through the peephole before simply unlocking the door because the most mystifying person in France was on the other side, grinning like a mad march hare. How the red-headed rabbit knew where he lived, Kanda didn't know, but he didn't want Lavi to see him in his current outfit.

"You—!" Kanda said in wide eyes. He blushed and abruptly tried to close the door again by pulling it, but Lavi kept pushing it back. "W-What the hell are you doing here?"

"I should at least know where _mon chéri_ lives, right?"

"Don't call me that!" The man outside couldn't see it but Kanda was red as a tomato since Lavi kept muttering endearments in shitty French. "Stop it, your French sucks!" he sounded more frustrated than angry.

"Jeez, Yu, you're still like that after all we've done?" Kanda remained persistent.

The redhead glanced around the open hallway as an idea struck him. "If you keep this up the people here would think we're weird." That seemed to do the trick as Kanda's pulling weakened. Lavi took the opportunity to push the wood between them harder, finally getting through.

Once inside, Lavi locked the door from behind him and got a good look at Kanda, who was in casual clothes, with just a shirt and track pants, something he would wear rarely and only at home. His long, black hair was tied into what looked like a bun. It was messier than a typical messy bun, and Lavi thought it was damn cute, seeing him like that for the first time. He burst out laughing and Kanda frowned in contrast.

"Hah! You're adorable as always," he said dearly, cupping the reddened face of the shorter man and trying to steal a kiss. Kanda grabbed and pushed his arm away before he could. The uninvited frowned.

Lavi scanned the room as Kanda asked, "How the fuck did you find me anyway?"

The one-eyed blinked and smiled slyly. "I have my sources."

"Stalker." Lavi cringed at the word.

"Oh, am I not allowed inside the humble abode of my dearest?"

"No, because you weren't invited."

"What? So I have to wait for an invitation now?"

"Yes! You don't just barge onto people's home like that!"

Lavi pouted. It took a while before their argument ended. Lavi helped himself in his house and sighed in awe. Kanda's apartment was three times bigger than his silly old place and the furniture looked expensive as hell. "I fucking hate my house right now." He sat on the same spot where Kanda was a minute ago.

"Don't you have work?"

"It's my day-off."

"Then, why are you here?" Kanda asked suspiciously and crossed his arms across Lavi, blocking the television.

"Do I need a reason?" He paused and sheepishly rubbed his neck. "I just wanna be with you." Kanda wondered how he could say such things so casually. "It's spring break, we don't have school and you rarely go to the shop. It's frustrating!" He could never see himself saying his thoughts out loud. How could he answer to that?

His expression could be described as giving up or flattered. "Fine! Do what you want." He disappeared into the kitchen to get some coffee. "Just take your dirty boots off. I just cleaned."

Lavi took his boots off as instructed, sliding off the red scarf and his shadier jacket as well. While waiting, Lavi observed the room modestly and took notice of the dressers and end tables covered by fabric. On the floors were rolled up carpets and scattered cleaning materials. There were curtain rods but no curtains. There were also no decorations, and assumed Kanda kept it somewhere else.

When Kanda came back with two cups of iced coffee, Lavi asked, "Spring cleaning?" The man nodded. Lavi was disappointed his hair wasn't in a girly bun anymore and was now tied into a loose ponytail.

"Spring cleaning's supposed to be on March."

"I didn't have the mood."

Kanda sat beside him on the sofa, sipping on his cold drink. He still kept his distance from Lavi. Lavi couldn't blame him when he himself wasn't sure what to call their relationship. They were together for only five weeks. His confession didn't actually contained the words "I love you". He knew he was in love with the guy, he just wasn't sure Kanda would believe him if he would say that. Lavi didn't know much about the black-haired guy aside from cooking and what kind of coffee or tea he would like for the day. That wasn't enough for Kanda to believe him, much less to love him too. Wondering what Kanda's feelings were, he clenched his fists. Was he just experimenting? Lavi hoped not. Maybe one of the reasons he barged in to his home like that was because he wanted to know more about Kanda.

Considering that their first few weeks were nothing special, there were a few changes to their usual days. It was almost the same routine, although Lavi found it rather enjoyable. First, they'd sit together as soon as Lavi's shift ends. Second, Lavi would always give Kanda a hard time about eating so little food but drinking too much tea and coffee. Kanda had confessed to him that he wanted to maintain his current figure, in other words, he didn't want to get fat. The way he said it wasn't frank but there are times when Lavi could untimely read between the lines. And third, they would either argue or unknowingly and unconsciously flirt with each other.

Their discussion would sometimes go a little out of hand, but in all honesty, Kanda looked forward to his momentary lunches with Lavi. He appreciated it, more than he ever would have admitted out loud.

Kanda watched Lavi on the corners of his eyes as he sipped the contents of his cup, and found that the man beside him hadn't touched the coffee. "If you don't like cold coffee just say so." Kanda was sure Lavi liked iced coffee, which was why he prepared it in the first place. Maybe he wanted something else. Maybe he preferred those unhealthy, carbonated drinks Americans were fond of. Kanda panicked. Wait, why was he the one panicking? Lavi was the one who came in uninvited; he wasn't in the position to be picky.

Lavi's hands clenched in and out into fists. "It's not that..." he muttered in a low voice and looked at his cup, then at Kanda's, until his vision included Kanda elegantly quaffing iced coffee from a an elaborate white and gold Atelier Le Tallec cup, his lips touching the cold porcelain. Lavi's lip twitched again. He couldn't feel but jealous. They didn't kiss again after that mischievous little encounter in the employee's lounge. Their relationship went up a notch, sure, but Lavi thought it was lacking in affection. Lavi proceeded to drink his coffee.

Looking again at the gap Kanda made sure to leave between them, his brows creased and frown formed on his lips. Kanda placed his cup on the glass table. He did the same. Lavi's frown twitched into a smile. He sprang sideward until their hips touched.

Kanda eyed him distrustfully and bent away from him. "Don't even think—" before he could finish that sentence, Lavi had already tilted his head to side and leaned into the man, brushing his lips over Kanda's. Butterflies fluttered furiously in his chest and stomach. He felt confused. His hands instinctively grasped Lavi's shoulders. He wanted to push him away, but the feather-like sensation felt so ridiculously good his feelings of denial and embarrassment began to slowly drift away.

And so Lavi added more pressure while the other one couldn't help but kiss back. Both of them pulled away almost at the same time. Kanda straightened up awkwardly, face all red and eyes evading Lavi's gaze. "See? That wasn't so bad," Lavi said, licking his lips. "That's why we should do it more often." The man with flaming red hair screeched in pain when he felt that familiar foot kick his shins, backing him away a few good inches.

"If that's what you came here for you can get your ass out now," Kanda said this angrily but his face told otherwise. His blue eyes stared directly at him.

Wrong, wrong, wrong! That wasn't what he came for! Seeing Kanda upset like that made Lavi's heart ache. "N-No! It's not like that! I… I just…" he trailed off, realization hitting him in the face. That move was wide off the mark. Now he made himself look like the kind of guy who was only in it for the physical component of a relationship. "Fine. I'll stop, okay? I'll stop…" It wasn't a good start, but Lavi could recover. Kanda pushed him away further and stood up. "You're cleanin' right? I can help." Lavi got on his feet, too, following the man of the house toward the kitchen.

If anything, the kitchen was the loveliest in all of Kanda's rooms. The feel of his whole condo unit was far from modern and sleek and instead possessed the very essence of French style—warm and welcoming, but not too countryside-ish. Kanda's kitchen had a rectangular chopping table as the centerpiece which also served as a nifty wine rack and dining table as two tall bistro chairs stand beside it. Pans and cookware hung from a ceiling pot rack like some kind of chandelier. Granite counters surrounded the three sides of the room. Cupboards and see-through cabinets were placed not too high where the plates and other tableware were neatly placed. The only silver-colored were the oven range and refrigerator, which looked like it cost a lot. Like his living room, the colors of the cupboards and counters were white mixed with cream yellows. The decorated kitchen was emphasized with excellent lighting which came from the windows that reached the floor. An arrangement of lavenders on the centerpiece table completed the room.

Lavi kept twirling his head, amazed by the wide space of white cabinets and counters. It could be possible that the kitchen was the largest part of his Kanda's condominium. That was to be expected. His garden veranda looked rather pretty, too. He saw Kanda turn off the fridge's power, opening the silver rectangle and emptying out the contents.

"I think your kitchen's already clean as it is," Lavi said, noticing a rather undersized flat-screen television hanging from the east wall and then kneeling over the wine rack and inspecting the bottles one by one.

Kanda stopped for a while and turned to Lavi, who was examining his bottle of Les Salices Chardonnay 2004. "Are you blind? The walls and surfaces are so grimy it disgusts me every time I cook."

"If that's what you call dirty I don't know what you'd call my place."

Kanda blinked twice. "I don't want to find out," he replied, although he was actually curious what Lavi's apartment looked like. He wiped the freezer with a cloth damped in hot water and baking soda so the ice inside would melt. "Where do you live anyway?"

"Uh…" It struck Lavi that he didn't bother memorizing his address, only remembering the path to his house, the café and the university. "Near the Eiffel Tower?"

Kanda raised a brow. "What street?"

"Wait." He took out his old iPhone and turned on the GPS. He browsed the map of Paris, sliding his thumb quickly until he reached the 7th arrondisement. He showed it to Kanda.

The black-haired man walked towards Lavi and kneeled in front of him, the screen of the phone facing him. "Avenue de Ségur." He looked closer at the yellow roads and small names of buildings on the map. "Near the Ministry of Finance."

"Exactly." Lavi took note of that. "My apartment is _really_ small compared to yours. It has only two rooms—the bathroom and then everything else." He took out another wine bottle, this time it read Pinot Noir and then put it back. He continued, "So far, that is the worst place I had ever lived in. Sure, gramps has a lot of property all over the place. He just didn't have one here. The only thing good at it is the view from my window and the booze store downstairs."

Kanda couldn't decide whether to be sad or thankful he had such a nice place. Lavi's humility was something to be amazed of. Standing up, he said, slightly abashed, "I-It's not too bad. The place probably just needs some cleaning and smaller furniture."

The wine-examining man smiled at the sudden show of concern. "Now that I think about it…" He rubbed his chin, thinking. His couch _was_ a little too big and the dining table was fit for four people when he only lived by himself. Watching Kanda defrost his freezer, he asked, "So, do ya need help with anything?"

"Take off the curtains." Kanda scanned the room. "And stop touching my wine."

Lavi hurriedly put the Sauvignon Blanc bottle back to the rack.

As soon as they finished cleaning the kitchen, Kanda rolled all the rugs, carpets and curtains in the house and made Lavi brought it to a dry cleaner on the ground floor of the condominium. Afterwards, Lavi helped him clean the windows and dust corners and shelves. They cleaned the walls and ceiling off from their surface grime.

Kanda was in the middle of changing the batteries of a smoke detector when Lavi complained and sat down on one of the two chairs in the kitchen.

"You picked a bad time to come over," Kanda said, not taking his eyes off the smoke detector.

Lavi sighed loudly then whimpered, "Hey, Yu—"

Kanda glared at him. "What?"

"I'm hungry—!"

"And?"

"Aren't ya gonna cook lunch?"

"It's not lunchtime yet."

Lavi pouted. "Mind if I ravage your fridge?"

Kanda shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever." Well, it wasn't like Lavi could eat anything in his refrigerator.

"What the hell," were the words Lavi could come up with when he saw the insides of Kanda's fridge. Within the cold box was a rainbow of fruit and vegetables. There was also a large amount of condiments and dressings; Dijon-style mustard, salad dressings, mayonnaise, and more dressings. Below that were cartons of soy milk, few bottles of water, and a variety of different cheeses and some sour cream. The lowest level had tupperwares with no labels. Lavi hoped it contained something edible. To his dismay, the tupperwares only had greens and raw ingredients in it. As a heavy carnivore, Lavi could do nothing but sigh as he let his stomach grumble.

Kanda laughed inwardly.

"Can I just open some of your wine?"

"Drinking on an empty stomach is bad."

"But it feels good."

Blue eyes stopped focusing on the smoke detector and turned to Lavi, who was munching a peeled, raw carrot he found on one of the tupperwares. Kanda pursed his lips to stop a smile. Lavi looked like a rabbit at that second, gnawing on a whole carrot with a half-open eye.

"Lavi..." Kanda said, not exactly sure why he said it. He looked at Lavi with what seemed like judging eyes, although he was actually just amused.

"What's with that look? So what if carrots are the only vegetable I eat? I'm a meat-lover goddammit."

"I didn't say anything."

"You're laughing inside."

"You eat like a rabbit." Lavi had one eyebrow raised. It took Kanda three seconds to realize he just said that out loud. "Not—that I think it's amusing or anything." Lavi still eyed him like his words were incomplete. Kanda blushed."W-What?"

"I didn't say anything," the grinning March hare said, copying Kanda's words and continued nibbling on the carrot.

Kanda turned around irritatedly, he headed to his bedroom.

"Where you goin'?" Lavi asked, instinctively standing up. He peeked from the kitchen entrance.

"I'm going to change," the other man said, although Lavi didn't hear it.

"What?" Lavi headed to the bedroom as well, only to see half of Kanda's pale, flawless back as he was in the middle of taking his shirt off. Lavi immediately turned around, quietly so Kanda wouldn't notice, and scampered back to kitchen. Lavi covered his eyes with his hands, his face reddening every second. Damn it, why did he even leave the door open? It shouldn't even affect him that much. It wasn't like he hadn't seen a naked guy before. And it was just Kanda's back for chrissake.

"I'm going out. Are you coming with me or what?"

Lavi flinched and faced Kanda who now flaunted a dark blue dress shirt. The awkward man still looked red, and Kanda tilted his head in question. "Something wrong?"

He flinched again and straightened his posture. "N-Nah. I'm fine." The other one still gazed at him shadily, putting on a short, espresso-colored Jean-Paul Gaultier cotton coat and a grayish-blue scarf around his neck. He decided to wear layers since the weather was rather chilly, and downpours seemed to be in a foul mood lately. Lavi tried to change the subject. "Where we goin' anyways? You look formal."

"The supermarket. I'm out of floorwax and a few other things." Kanda took out his smartphone. And with his thumb, he typed the things he needed to buy, muttering items and things as he keyed them. Kanda then eyeballed Lavi from head to toe and made a disappointed sigh. The redhead was wearing a simple black long-sleeve and jeans. "I suggest you wear your jacket and scarf."

"Okay," he replied. "Oh! I bought my ride today!" Lavi sounded excited, his face lighting up.

Kanda narrowed one eyelid. Wait, Lavi bought a car? He thought the guy was broke. "A ride…" he repeated, failing to make himself believe.

"Yeah." Lavi took out the keys from his pockets and presented it to Kanda. It was a sole key entwined with a Ducati keychain.

"You got a motorcycle?" Oh, so it wasn't a car, but nonetheless, a Ducati was still expensive.

It was indeed a ride. After locking the door and going down the elevator to visit the parking space, Kanda found himself staring at Lavi's "ride"—a red, secondhand Vespa scooter.

"Isn't it cute?" Lavi smiled sweetly.

"It's… a scooter." Kanda blinked. He sounded rather disappointed. "I thought you bought a Ducati."

"That's way over my league right now."

"Putting a Ducati keychain to Vespa keys doesn't make your Vespa a Ducati."

"But it sure can trick people."

It struck Kanda that riding that thing together with Lavi would be embarrassing. It wasn't the Vespa that was embarrassing, it was a common sight in the city and a lot of people adored the scooter, but sitting behind Lavi and holding onto him was something Kanda wouldn't be able to handle.

Kanda broke eye contact and blushed. "I'll… walk."

"Huh? Why?" Lavi frowned. "Where are we supposed to go anyway?"

"M-Monoprix. It's isn't too far from the café, so it's close."

Ending up not using Lavi's scooter, they, in fact, came to an agreement to just walk. Yet again, Kanda kept a distance between them. He walked a little ahead of Lavi, but close enough to hear each other's voices. It irked Lavi to be honest and kept his eyes on the ground. The pavements were wet as result of the previous rain, although the rain had already stopped when they began their trip.

Kanda mentioned they were to go to Rue de Rennes which was a few streets away from the student chef's condominium. Lavi thought it wasn't such a bad idea to walk since he never had the chance to just relax and walk around Paris for the sake of it. The roads were narrow, even more so when cars parked on both sides. Sure, there were a few litters and junk on the nooks and crannies of the sidewalks, but it wasn't as filthy as New York streets. And Lavi appreciated that. The rest of their walk was silent, as Kanda was too busy going ahead on purpose and Lavi was too busy sightseeing and looking up at buildings which all had identical heights and were either cream-colored or white, just like Kanda's interior theme.

Unlike what most television shows would say, the streets did not smell like newly-baked bread from _boulangeries _and cheese from _fromageries_, perhaps not on that particular street, as it smelled more like Chanel No. 5 mixed with the earthy aroma of spring rain. Rue de Rennes mostly had clothing stores, some were names Lavi had never seen before and some were brand names Lavi used to see in the US like Zara and Gap, but this time they weren't petty stores inside a mall, they had their own window-shop where every person walking would see them and their mannequins clad in their lavish clothes.

The shopping for household materials took faster than expected. They finished in no time and were back outside on the bustling lane again; only now Kanda was holding a plastic bag full of whatever. The shorter man, without speaking, turned left instead of right, assuming Lavi would just follow.

But the redhead knew it was the wrong way. "Yu, isn't your house that way?" He pointed at the opposite direction. Kanda ignored him and kept walking. His stomach grumbled angrily at him. He didn't eat yet, and the hour-long walk and another thirty minutes shopping made him hungrier. Lavi found it a good idea to turn it into a date, since they haven't been in one. Their little conversations in the café didn't actually count.

"I'm hungry. We should eat somewhere now that we're here." He was careful not to say anything about a date. The idea might spoil Kanda's growing pleasant mood.

"Okay," Kanda said. Lavi didn't quite expect he'd agree.

A few meters and one corner turn later, Kanda stopped in front of a street stand with the word "_Crêperie_" on the signboard. Before he knew it, Kanda had already ordered two crêpes.

"Crêpes…?" Lavi asked drearily, his shoulders slugging.

"Yes," Kanda paused. "Crêpes."

Lavi moved next to Kanda, their shoulders touching, as he observed the man behind the glass stand pour batter onto a large, circular skillet, and then spreading it by spiraling the batter with a steel T-shaped utensil Lavi had never seen before. He asked Kanda what it was. The man knew everything about cooking.

"It's a trowel spreader made specifically for crêpes."

Lavi watched in awe. Then, the crêpe-maker poured melted Nutella over the batter, then at last minute, added whipped cream, chocolate bits, sliced bananas and peaches. It was then folded into thirds, making it look triangular. The cook then placed it on a wrapper with the same shape and handed it to Lavi. In a matter of forty seconds, another one was made and instead of chocolate and fruits, he put Swiss cheese, one scrambled egg and slices of ham.

After paying, Lavi ate one bite of the soft, chewy, thin pancake, making sure he included the sweet fillings. It was delicious, he thought. So far, he hadn't tasted anything horrible ever since he met Kanda. "Wait…" Watching Kanda eat his snack, realization struck him like lightning. He confronted the innocent man, "You only picked this place because it only lasts for one minute!"

Kanda widened his eyes, not quite sure why Lavi bitched. He scowled. "Exactly. You were hungry. The faster the better," He said with slight empathy.

"Uh… W-Well…" The man had a point. "I thought we could eat somewhere, like a restaurant or something."

"I could just cook at home," Kanda suggested, nibbling on the crêpe he was holding.

Lavi's bright green eye widened. "Really? You'll cook for me?"

Kanda wished he hadn't said what he said as his face turned red again. "J-Just consider yourself lucky I'm in the mood to cook something!"

Instead of replying with a teasing remark, Lavi reached his free hand to touch the left side of Kanda's neck and pull him into a deep, fleeting kiss. Kanda froze on his feet. It was a good thing there weren't many people around; the people walking on the streets were too busy with their own business, the man making the crêpes was too busy cooking, and the customers by the stand were too busy watching.

Kanda couldn't imagine getting used to Lavi's affection. He was afraid he still wouldn't handle it when kissing would become normal for them. But he was also afraid that he would get used to it when the time would come when Lavi was no longer interested. Somehow the thought scared him.

The unflinching man licked his lips, faintly tasting the flavor of Kanda's cheesy crêpe. He stared at the food the smaller man was holding. It was more expensive, mainly because of the Swiss cheese. "Can I have a bite?"

"Ah—" Kanda was about to protest when Lavi gripped his wrist and drew it close so he could forcefully bite off a portion of the crêpe.

The buds on his tongue stirred. It tasted like an American breakfast inside a pancake. "It's pretty good."

Kanda couldn't really do anything but let the redhead get away with it. He learned it the hard way that getting mad at Lavi was just a waste of time. The said man smiled innocently at the flushed Kanda. He narrowed his eyes at him and sighed. The boy was too rash lately. Kanda started to walk and the redhead followed, although the other man was still keeping distance. "I have to shop again."

"That's okay, if it means having to taste your home-cooked food, I'm down with it." Lavi had just finished his snack and thoughtfully threw the wrapper in the nearest trash can. He went back to Kanda. "So, where we headin' now? Back to Monoprix?"

"The open market," Kanda replied and had already consumed the crêpe as well. "It's in Buci, the lane before the café."

"I'm guessing we're walking there, huh. I don't really mind," Lavi said. "I rarely get the chance to do this with you. Might as well relish the moment."

Kanda stopped his breathing for a moment and began to hate how Lavi would say anything recklessly, rendering him speechless.

They arrived shortly on Rue de Buci where an open marketplace was located. It was only one short boulevard long, but it was bountiful with colorful flower shops and a large assortment of fresh fruits of vegetables. The market looked best in spring, Kanda mentioned. Like most streets in the 6th, it was narrow, and there were plenty of cafés and eateries on either side of the path.

"So, what are ya making?"

"I don't know yet." Well, that was because he didn't know what Lavi would want. And asking him would be unusual, for Kanda at least. He just wished Lavi would take the initiative to request. When he wasn't saying anything, Kanda decided to test him instead. "Probably… something with chicken?"

"Oh." Lavi stopped in front of a restaurant's outdoor menu. He skimmed it and looked for the French word for chicken. If he wasn't mistaken from what he memorized from cooking lectures, it could be _poulet, poussin _or _coq_. Lavi called for Kanda's attention and pointed at a certain sentence on the large menu. "This one sounds nice. I see it everywhere."

"_Coq au Vin_," Kanda read. "It's more of dinner than lunch." He looked uncertain. "And it's rooster."

Lavi tilted his head in confusion. "Uhh… isn't that chicken, too?"

"A rooster is tougher to cook than regular chicken." Kanda observed the shops around them before saying, "And it would be hard looking for one here."

"Then make one with chicken."

"That would be different from an authentic _coq au vin_. It's an easier alternative, though I doubt any of these restaurants use real rooster. That dish requires rooster blood and red wine."

"That doesn't sound very appealing."

"It's not the only dish that uses animal blood." Kanda paused, trying to remember how much money was left. "Also, I don't think I have extra money for red wine."

Lavi arched a brow. "I think you have one at home."

"I do? Which one?"

"Hah. I don't know which is red. I just read the labels. I can recite all of them and just tell if it's the one you need."

Kanda couldn't believe he memorized his entire wine rack. "You remember all of them?" He didn't bother to memorize it himself.

"Yeah, well, you have Chardonnay. It's the first one I saw. There's also Madeira, and a Savvy-something Blanc."

"Sauvignon Blanc," Kanda corrected. "What else?"

Lavi squeezed his eye shut, trying to go further into his memory as most of the names were hard to pronounce. "Vin Gris, Pinot, Cognac…"

Kanda interrupted, "Wait, you said Pinot?"

"Yes."

"Pinot Noir?"

"Is that spelled N-O-I-R?" The student chef nodded. "Yep. That's it."

Kanda's eyes were wide and if Lavi wasn't wrong, it looked like his eyes glistened. "We could use that…!"

The redhead smiled, laughing slightly. "You're fired up."

"I—" Kanda turned around, arms crossed, a bit ashamed of his eagerness. He shifted his gaze to the side. "I'm... not."

Lavi didn't say anything else and merely responded with a smile, mentally repeating how cute Kanda was and kept fighting back the need to kiss the man again.

With a recipe in mind, they walked around Marché Buci for several minutes. If Lavi knew how meticulous Kanda was on buying ingredients, he would've just settled for another crêpe. They had already bought a few stuff—beef stock, tomato paste, bacon, and some mushrooms. The cook mentioned he already had onions and garlic back in the condo.

It took some time before Kanda could buy the freshest vegetables and find a chicken old enough to replace a tough rooster. He observed them keenly, making sure he would buy the best produce. It was almost noon when they decided to go back, just in time for lunch.

The journey back to the condo was the same, Kanda pacing ahead. His right hand was holding the plastic bag from Monoprix while Lavi offered to carry the paper bag full of ingredients on his left arm. The distance Kanda put between them again made Lavi's heart ache. He hated it. His eyebrows creased. Biting his lower lip, he moved closer behind Kanda for him to slide his right hand under Kanda's free hand, entwining his fingers with his.

Kanda had wide eyes when he spun to face Lavi. He protested frantically, "W-What are you—!"

"I want to hold hands."

"That's… It's…!" Kanda tried to pull his hands off Lavi's grasp. The taller man wouldn't falter, though. "It's weird!"

"No, it isn't."

"To society, it is," The hesitant man almost yelled. He leaned his head down to hide his inflaming cheeks.

Lavi growled in frustration. He let go, and just when Kanda thought he gave up, Lavi slipped his hair tie off from his ponytail effortlessly. "Hey!" His black, long hair flowed down, covering his entire back. "Give that back or I'll fucking poison you!"

"With your hair down, you just look like a girl with a really flat chest."

Kanda flushed in anger. "You fucking bastard—" He attempted to steal back his hair tie from a smirking Lavi. "G-Give it back...!"

Lavi was taller, and his arms were slightly longer, so he raised his hands holding the hair tie, Kanda looking like a child being bullied as he tried to steal it away from Lavi's grasp.

And when Kanda was about to physically hurt Lavi, an elderly woman approached them, holding a cane for support and scowling at Lavi. "_Tu dois traiter les demoiselles avec respect!_" she scolded Lavi as she waved a warning finger at him. Lavi couldn't understand, as the woman spoke in French and had a croaky speech. She said before walking away, shaking her head in disappointment, "_Les jeunes d'aujourd'hui..._"

Green and blue eyes watched steadily at the retreating back of the old lady. "Hey Yu, what did she—" Lavi stopped midway when he saw the massive blush cross Kanda's cheeks. Lavi burst out in laughter.

Kanda trembled with both embarrassment and anger. "W-Why are you laughing all of a sudden?"

"You're… You're just too cute," Lavi replied, covering his own face, making Kanda's blush go deeper. "What did that old lady even said?"

The mortified man looked away too quickly. "N-Nothing."

"Oh, come on, she said something that made ya turn all red. What was it?"

"I-I told you it's n-not important." He didn't want to say the woman had mistaken him for a girl, telling Lavi to "treat a lady with respect".

Lavi glanced at him with narrowed eyes. "You're lying."

Frustrated, Kanda groaned at the redhead's stubbornness and began to stride onward, leaving Lavi. He caught up in a second and seized Kanda's hand once more. The long-haired man remained nonchalant. Lavi kept his eyes on their tangled fingers, slightly surprised Kanda wasn't objecting. "You're okay with it?"

Kanda squeezed his eyes shut, preparing himself on what he was about to say. "J-Just…! Just until w-we reach the next street!"

The delighted Lavi snickered. "You're so adorable and you're not even trying," he said, getting closer. They were now side by side, comfortably walking with joined hands. Kanda's hand was cold, but it was the softest hand he had ever touched.

Kanda changed clothes as soon as they got home and was about to cook lunch; chicken (rooster, supposedly) with red wine sauce. Lavi brought the groceries to the counters. He offered to help, although Kanda declined nicely enough, saying the procedure couldn't afford any mistakes. He heard the stove click and the clanging of kitchenware.

He smiled softly and said, "Can I just watch?"

Kanda was halfway through chopping the whole, raw chicken into eights when he said quietly, "Do whatever you want." He heard Lavi snicker again and lean on the center table so he could watch Kanda perfectly.

He heated oil in a skillet as he removed the thigh bone from the chicken legs, twisting it around and cutting it off, so that it would finish cooking together with the other fleshy parts like the breast. Kanda began to brown the chicken, shaking it constantly to prevent it from sticking to the pan, and then sprinkled it with flour. On another gas range, he began to sauté onions, and just like the chicken, it started to brown.

After a few minutes, Lavi, as an observant, asked, "How do you know if the insides are already done?"

"Chicken firms up slowly. When the fatty flesh is gone, and feels stiffer, it's done." Kanda poked the cooking poultry with his finger, careful not to burn his skin. He reduced the heat. "Don't make it too firm, though, it will turn out dry and overcooked."

On the chopping table, Kanda sliced the shallots and garlic and formed a _bouquet garni_ by tying sprigs of parsley, bay leaves, and thyme inside two celery stalks cut in half. just across Lavi, who was leaning on the countertop. Kanda took a glimpse of the redhead in front of him. "I wonder why they let you shift into my class."

"They saw determination in my face," He half-joked and laughed. "I was tired of hearing how great you are. I wanted to see it with my own eyes."

"Eye," Kanda corrected, pertaining to Lavi's covered right eye.

"Right," The observer laughed. "Eye."

Kanda walked over to the side, where a Pinot Noir bottle resided, just as Lavi had said. Côtes-du-Rhône would have been a better choice, though. Back to the stoves, he threw in the chopped shallots and garlic, poured in the tomato paste and stock. He opened the bottle of red wine as he let it gush down on the sizzling pan of chicken and spices. Kanda put aside the wine after estimating two cups of it without measuring. The _bouquet garni _was tossed as he let it sink beneath the bubbling sauce as he covered the pan and let the contents simmer.

Kanda's shoulders flinched when he heard a shutter sound of a camera, only to see Lavi taking a picture of him on his iPhone.

A sigh came out of his lips. "What are you…?"

"Taking a picture of Yu cooking for me."

"I-I'm not doing this for you," the chef denied. Lavi threw him a teasing smile. "D-Don't you have anything better to do?"

"I told ya I can help."

"Fine! Peel and boil these!" Surrendering, he handed Lavi a pot of pearl onions. Lavi happily accepted.

As the redhead boiled the petite onions, Kanda went on over to blanch the bacon over and over to extract the salt. Afterwards, the bacon was sautéed with halved mushrooms and the boiled pearl onions. The chicken and sauce was done a few minutes later, and was separated by a fine-mesh sieve, Lavi helping him by holding the large circular sieve while Kanda poured the casserole of chicken on it. The _bouquet garni_ was discarded.

Kanda exhaled, feeling proud. The consistency of the sauce was perfect as it was as thick as heavy cream. The bacon-mushroom-onion mix was then added to the chicken, and then the lovely dark brown sauce was poured evenly and wonderfully on the large porcelain casserole.

Lavi watched, excited and hungry. It simply smelled divine as the flavorful aroma stuck on the walls and spread throughout the house. As soon as the smell hit him, his mouth watered, and made him lightheaded. "It looks fucking _amazing_."

"Stop staring and get some plates." Kanda cleaned up the center table, wiping off the scraps and crumbs.

"Sure." He took out two plates from the glass-fronted cabinet and placed it on center table.

Lavi glided himself on one of the bistro chairs while Kanda was serving the food across him. It took a while before Lavi could realize how soft his blue eyes were when he was dishing out two servings of the _coq au vin_ onto the plates. If anything, they almost looked like husband and wife. Lavi flushed slightly, looking down on the granite countertop instead.

The one-eyed watched him as Kanda crudely stuck a fork in Lavi's share of chicken. Lavi said with a small smile, "I'm the guest. It's rude if I start without you."

"You barged in without warning. _That's_ rude."

Lavi shrugged his shoulders. "Then consider this as compensation for my discourtesy earlier."

Kanda clenched his fists in anxiety. "I... have to clean first."

"I can wait."

God, this man was patient when didn't need to be. "Y-You're hungry, right? And y-you said you didn't eat breakfast… yet, so..," he stuttered out his concerns. Blue eyes narrowed and avoided eye contact, and cheeks shifted from pale to soft pink. "S-So, you go on ahead…"

Lavi theatrically clutched his chest. If the man in front of him wouldn't stop being so adorable at unexpecting times he'd probably die of a heart attack. He bit his lower lips and stared down at his plate, fighting back the strong urges to just stand up and hug and kiss and cuddle the guy.

While Kanda cleaned up the counters, Lavi ate the sauced chicken in silence. As always, it tasted damn good. Then again, anything Kanda would make was good. He moved and ate slowly, so Kanda would still catch up and eat together with him. But Kanda looked like he himself was cleaning sluggishly on purpose, just so he wouldn't have to eat with him.

"Aren't ya gonna eat with me?" Lavi finally asked.

Kanda froze and turned around uneasily, avoiding eye-to-eye contact. "I… I will. Just a second."

The red-headed man watched Kanda with a smile as he washed the last dirty pan he had used to cook, whipped up the remaining Pinot Noir, and afterwards seated himself next to Lavi, offering the glass of red wine and lifting a spoonful of the saucy chicken bits to his mouth.

They both ate in silence—a comfortable one, though. All of Kanda's uneasiness evaporated. They were just there, side by side, lifting spoons, eating, and wordless. When Kanda finished first, he stood up and picked up his plate.

"If you're done, just leave it in the sink. I'll wash it later."

"I'll do it." Lavi raised himself from his seat. He came close to Kanda, taking his hand and caressed his palm. Kanda let him but flinched at the touch. It wasn't as soft and smooth anymore. His palm was rough from all the washing and cooking. Smiling, he uttered endearingly, "I don't want to ruin your soft hands."

Kanda sighed softly. He couldn't really say anything. Aside from making him talk more often, Lavi had the talent to make him undeniably speechless.

The rest of the day was Kanda resuming his spring cleaning, requesting Lavi to stay in the kitchen while he cleaned the rest of the rooms. The redhead was hesitant at first, but complied and kept on feeding himself and finishing a bottle of red wine. The mini LED television kept him entertained. Kanda would rest from time to time to chat with Lavi, and when the clock turned to five o'clock, they had a late afternoon coffee and a snack. After that, Kanda went down to the laundry shop to get the carpets and rugs to spread them again on the living room.

Nearly two hours later, Lavi got out of the kitchen to check on Kanda. When he stepped on the living room, the first thing his eye landed on was Kanda's beautiful sleeping face. Lavi grazed his fingers against Kanda's palm. It was quite a sight that he didn't flinch one bit. His hands were rough, coarse, some of the fragile skin peeling off slightly. He stayed there staring at the slumbering man on the couch and brushing his hands with his, wondering what to do, whether he should wake the guy up, put a blanket over him, or carry him to the bedroom.

Waking him up would be a horrible idea, but he needed to go. It was almost seven-thirty and he had to work the next day at the earliest hour. So, he picked the third choice and decided to carry Kanda to his bed. Lavi exhaled, carrying him wouldn't be a problem, except when he couldn't even lift an inch of him.

Lavi felt weak all of a sudden, muttering softly, "You look like a girl, but you sure don't weigh like one." Lavi backed away when Kanda's eyes scrunched his eyes and slowly open them. Lavi softly said, asking for permission, "Yu, I have to leave."

"Mmnnn…" Kanda nodded his head and went back to sleep. Lavi laughed soundlessly. If it was possible, Lavi just fell even harder for him.

Maybe staying for the night wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

**A/N: Hi! I know this was supposed to be updated on May, well that didn't turn out quite right, so, I'm sorry for that. My dad was home for most of the month and I can't type freely with him around. Hopefully I can finish June and actually update on time. **

**This turned out longer than I had expected, but I hope it isn't too wordy. I tend to be wordy. Especially when describing places. I apologize.  
**

**Here's me hoping to get a June chapter going! Thank you for the reviews and PMs! You guys are wonderful~  
**

**Changed my internet name from "raininggemini" to "electromagnetia".  
Tumblr and other accounts from these day on is electromagnetia.  
**


	6. Soupe au Potiron

_**Les Reves Des Amouroux Sont Comme Le Bon Vin**_

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**Recipe Six**

**June**

"_**Soupe au Potiron"**_

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_**Ingredients:**_

_6-7 pounds pumpkin_

_2 tablespoons butter_

_2 cups cubes of French bread or sourdough_

_3 onions, chopped_

_2 cloves garlic, chopped_

_1 cup crème fraîche_

_3 cups turkey or chicken broth_

_12 ounces Swiss __Gruyère __cheese_

* * *

_Kanda's realization that food wasn't something to simply fill up an angry stomach was nine years ago._ It was the time when he moved to France with his uncle, who had just achieved his big breakthrough in Barcelona as a professional artist and painter and used the money to buy a glorious place in Paris. Ten-year-old Kanda was the kind of kid who never spoke unless being spoken to and it gave his uncle a hard time to convince him that the world was still a wonderful place, even after his separation with his family and his departure from home. Kanda never ate anything—which made Tiedoll extremely worried. He wasn't feeding on anything apart from bread or small portions of pasta. And it struck him that maybe he didn't like European food. He thought that maybe since the boy just came from China, where his parents migrated to, he might eat something oriental. That was where it began.

The fretful uncle drove him all the way to Le Café Gris—the coffee shop located along Saint-Germain-des-Prés, at a row of expensive high-class restaurants and cafés. Kanda couldn't remember what Tiedoll had exactly said when he first whiffed the addicting aroma of coffee beans and the savory scent of a pumpkin soup being served but he could remember the frightening amount of "bonjours" he had heard as soon as they entered. That was the first plate he saw, pumpkin soup. It was understood that he didn't know what a pumpkin soup was and before he could ask one of the waiters trotting in circles, Tiedoll was already steering him toward an empty table, one that was adjacent to the tall glass—allowing him to see the wide Parisian streets in all its business. He was forcefully seated down when his uncle muttered, "Wait here" in French and skipped to the kitchen as if he was an employee.

"He can cook anything." were the words Kanda could recollect when Jerry was first introduced to him. Everything else was a blur but he could still recall the scene where Tiedoll was talking to the chef as if he was asking a favor. Jerry then eyed him and smiled kindly at him before going back to the kitchen. Kanda could only hold the expression of confusion for the duration of that time.

It was amazingly cold.

For an anti-social, chronically depressed, ten-and-a-half-year-old boy like Kanda, _tadano soba_ was like discovering hidden treasure from an unknown island in the Pacific Ocean. It was unlike the other foods Tiedoll presented to him. Unlike the red-tomato pasta, it was colder, thinner and didn't possess any confusing flavors. The pleasant tang it had compensated for its sheer simplicity; noodles made out of buck wheat and a sauce to dip into.

Kanda's slate gray eyes changed dramatically to blue as it glittered for the first time. He could've sworn he saw tears in the corner of Tiedoll's thankful coffee eyes. He asked the Indian chef what the wonderful, cold, noodles were called using the gesture of his small hands and curious blue pupils.

"It's called soba, darlin'."

The boy's amazement made Jerry raise his lower lip in interest, his index touching the side of his mouth. It made him ask Tiedoll the history behind the boy which the Frenchman gleefully answered detail-by-detail. And that was when Jerry found out the boy—who was already finished with the plate of the cold treat—was Japanese but never really tasted any native food since his family moved to China. The only language he could speak back at those times were Japanese, small fragments of English and very few phrases of French that he had memorized through listening to his foster uncle. He wanted to ask for more but was too shy to do so. He looked up at his guardian and flashed him his first ever smile in Paris.

_It was the 5th of June when Lavi brought up the subject about his family which Kanda simply refused to talk about_. But several minutes of Lavi's stubbornness made him give up. Lavi first asked about Kanda's first impression of the capital. Kanda only narrated vaguely. Then, he was asked about his uncle. Blue eyes darted up, thinking about what to say for a moment.

Froi Tiedoll was like any middle-aged Frenchman. He had clever brown eyes that still demonstrated kindness, hiding behind round, bright-rimmed, graded glasses. His head had what seemed like curly chestnut brown locks—his mustache and thick stubble having the same color. He could say Tiedoll was sort of buff; considering his tall and intimidating frame. But lately, his muscles were slowly demoting to fat due to aging which however still accentuated his round pronounced body figure and cheekbones. Kanda could simply describe the man as loving and maternal. Tiedoll treated Kanda as his own child—maybe a little too much, sometimes.

He took the liberty to take care of him when his parents separated, went someplace faraway and just vanished. Tiedoll, being a friend of his mother—or possibly his father, Kanda couldn't remember—never hesitated to sign official documents of guardianship. He was also the legal guardian of two other boys back at that time; a Music student named Noise Marie who wasn't able to see anymore due to an accident and a Turkish country boy named Daisya Barry who was the same age as him.

"Doesn't he have children?" Kanda heard Lavi ask when the redhead scratched his nose. Tiedoll never had the chance to have children. He knew his wife left him for reasons Kanda didn't have the chance to know. Other than that, the woman was entirely just a mystery to him. That was probably one reason why he was willing to be a father—or mother—figure to anyone at that point.

"He has three," came out as Kanda's only reply.

Lavi's plan didn't quite work. It was terrible enough that if Lenalee hadn't told him earlier that Kanda's birthday was already on the 6th, Lavi would've stayed clueless. He regretted it, how could he not know that? Sure, it had already been two months since they were together, and that Kanda didn't mind whenever Lavi would barge in his house, and whenever Lavi teased him, he wouldn't physically hurt him anymore—at least not as much as he used to—but the fact that he never knew his birthday ate him like a monster.

That wasn't all that was bothering the poor redhead. Okay, so, he knew his darling's birthday now, the problem was what came after. What should he give the guy? Considering that the black-haired prick hated practically everything. Lavi asked him about his family. Kanda was reluctant, but Lavi's talkativeness was sadly so contagious that he began answering every question Lavi threw at him. It didn't prove quite helpful though. Kanda said things he already knew—the fact that, well, he hated most of the things under the sun, and he liked to cook. After several minutes of storytelling and no assistive intel, Lavi was called for his next shift.

"You look down," Reever commented, handing Lavi the black apron. "You're usually all giddy after talking to Kanda. In fact... you might be the only one."

Lavi's frown deepened, sighing. "Try'na think of a gift. I tried making him spill 'bout himself, but I got nothing." Not entirely, though. He learned about his odd, but lovely family. That wasn't such a bad thing.

"Right. It's tomorrow." Reever smiled slightly, couldn't help reminiscing. "Time sure flies. I remember when he was just this cute, snobby, little kid."

"Oh?" Lavi raised his brows. He had just finished putting back on his apron and bow tie. "Whaddaya think of him now?"

Reever's face changed drastically. "Less cute and a hell of a lot snobbier that's for sure."

"Less cute?" Lavi echoed in disbelief. Smirking, he added, "I have to disagree with that."

The secondary manager arched a brow at him. "He's been warming up to you lately, of all people." Reever paused. Looking back at it, Kanda was pretty pleasant for the past few days and rarely ever scowled. "You know, I've never seen him like that ever since his days with his childhood friend."

Lavi's brows raised in curiosity. "Childhood friend, huh?" That would be an interesting subject to ask him in the future.

"Yeah, now get back to work for chrissake."

"Yes, mister manager sir," Lavi said lazily. He walked and stopped in front of a wall, where a sheet of paper was pinned. It was every staff member's shifts, and Lavi noticed Allen Walker's name beside his. He whined, "Allen's break is over too. Why do you always pressure me to go back to work and not him?"

Reever narrowed his eyes at him. "Because the kid _actually_ works hard," he replied truthfully. With perfect timing, Reever noticed a short, curly-haired man walk out the kitchen, carrying a toolbox. "Hey, Johnny, mind calling the 14th down?"

"Sure!" the short man smiled and eagerly went upstairs to the lounge.

The redhead's attention went back to the assistant manager. "14th? What's up with that?"

Reever opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when he heard footsteps getting louder. Allen was hurriedly marching downstairs, tying his apron around his waist as he did so. "Sorry! I wasn't minding the time," he said ruefully.

Lavi repeated his question.

"He lives in the 14th arrondisement," Reever answered with delay. "Most of the staff lived nearby."

Allen's face grew sour. "Please don't call me that. It's unsettling."

"Why don't you just work somewhere nearer?" Lavi asked the pale-haired boy. "I'm not that far but the commute's still tiring, even if I have a Vespa already. I try my best to avoid the Métro."

"My, uh, guardian was this caff's contractor." He didn't sound too happy when he mentioned the said person. He added before heading to a customer, "And this place pays amazingly well."

"Amen to that."

Lavi looked at his wrist watch. It was a few minutes before noon, which was also the time Kanda would usually leave on a Wednesday since there was no school, giving him the entire morning to stay in the shop. He had little time left to think of a gift, much less to buy one. His current shift would end in three hours and when he saw Kanda place his payment on the table, Lavi rushed to his side and instinctively blocked Kanda's way.

Wide eyes stared at each other. Nervous, Lavi stammered, "Y-You free today? I was wondering, ya know, maybe, we could, uh, hang out... and stuff."

Kanda seemed very calm when he answered with a question, "Don't you have work?"

He had a point. Lavi clicked his tongue. He acted without thinking, he had no plan whatsoever and he didn't even know where they could spend time together. "I'm free at 3. I'll pick you up." No, seriously, he didn't have a plan. "I... need help buying something." That was a lie.

"I'll be at Rennes. I have to shop for groceries." Kanda walked passed him. "Just call or whatever," he said before leaving the waiter behind and heading out to the double glass door.

Lavi slapped his face. At least Kanda wasn't that hostile this time. "Oh good god, that was stupid," he muttered to himself. He wanted to buy something for Kanda, not buy something _with_ him. He had no idea why he asked him out in the first place. He had three hours to come up with a decent strategy. Realizing he needed to procure more information about Kanda, he decided to ask the staff around. They knew Kanda since he was a kid; surely they would know something relevant.

And so his investigation began in the kitchen where everybody were usually were. "Greetings people of Le Café Gris! I have gathered you all today for the sole purpose of helping me buy a gift for Yu Kanda."

The first one to speak was Johnny, who said, "He's got expensive taste." It made Lavi remember about how Kanda forgot his designer coat and got all wrinkled because of Johnny, and wondered if the boy really did receive a beating. Sure, Kanda was violent, but he never really meant most of his threats.

"You mean, like, designer clothes? Shit, even with a month's salary..."

Johnny gave a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, you don't have to get him that. He's not that shallow."

Allen butted in when he brought in dirty cups to the sink. "And why bother, right? You can't afford them anyway."

"Thank you _so_ much for your encouraging words."

"Oh, he's into that gardening stuff, ya know?" Tapp, the café's _pattiseur_, said as he dusted his work bench with flour, and afterwards rolling dough into a rectangle. "Have you seen his garden? Even though he lives in a condo he still managed to make a pretty garden."

Lavi had seen his garden veranda, yes it was lovely, and it can be seen that Kanda had some special affinity for lotus and lavender, as well as lillies and caraways. But if he mentioned that, people might wonder how he got there.

The next person to speak was Lenalee, who was helping out in kitchen duties. "If anything, he's really fit; jogs from time to time, eats healthy—healthier than me to be honest. He always says I eat too much cake. Oh, yeah, and I used to go over to his place and meditate with him. Although, I just use that as an excuse to get away from my brother."

Next to the young lady was Jerry, who had just taken out a tray of terrine from the hot oven. Lavi got distracted by the savory, bacony aroma of the dish, almost forgetting his investigation. "That man eats like a herbivore. He seldom eats anything with meat, prefers green pepper and seafood among other things. You know his favorite food, right?"

"Y-Yeah. Of course!" It was embarrassing, but he didn't know. Well, at least they were just friends in everyone's eyes, so it would be normal if he didn't know any of Kanda's favorite things. If any of the staff knew their strange relationship, there was no one else to blame but Lavi. Surely that would cost the poor young man his head. He scratched his head and took a wild guess, "Is it tempura?"

"Ooh. Close, quite close, honey. If I'm not mistaken he likes that, too." Jerry waved a finger as he said it. "But if you want to impress him, you gotta give him some nice, ice-cold soba."

"Soba? I know that," Lavi said, leaning on a counter next to the flamboyant chef. "It's some kind of Japanese noodles, right? I've had one of those before, back in the US, pretty tasteless to me."

The chef clicked his tongue several times and shook his head in disappointment. "Lavi, Lavi, Lavi. If done right, it's a fantastic dish, very healthy, very flavorful even though the dips are limited." He quieted his voice. "It's partially my fault Kanda likes that dish. You wanna hear a story?"

"Is it about the first time he came here and you cooked him somethin'?"

Jerry could say he was a bit surprised. "Oh? Who told you that?"

"Yu, though it wasn't on full detail."

The chef was very much surprised. How unusual for Kanda to tell stories about his past and his family, Jerry thought. A smile found its way on his lips. "I cooked for him, gave him some soba 'cause his uncle was so scared that the boy won't eat."

"So, it became his favorite food."

"Correct," the chef replied. He placed a hand on his hip, and raised an eyebrow, curious. "Why the questions, hun? For his birthday?"

Lavi froze, getting all flushed and fidgety. "Y-Yeah, I mean, he's my friend. I oughta give him something."

Lavi couldn't see behind Jerry's sharp sunglasses, but he felt the suspicious looks he was giving him. "You weren't this troubled during Lena's birthday."

"W-Well!" Lavi paused, unable to quickly think of an excuse. "Girls... are easier to give presents to." Talking to Jerry was too dangerous. His radar was too good—too damn good. "A-Anyway, thanks for the help!"

Jerry watched Lavi dash out of the room. He said to himself, "He's way too obvious."

Lavi did nothing productive aside from taking one or two orders and cleaning out a table, as he was too preoccupied. Allen did most of the work, and the kid appeared to be really good at what he was doing. Lavi slacked off unintentionally, having too much on his mind. When it was a quarter before three, he sat himself down on one of the empty seats and observed the clock until the hand reached exactly at three o'clock.

"Okay, shift's over, gotta go!" He took his apron, tossed it to Allen, who was unaware and was surprised when a random apron hit him, as a blur of red and green ran to the door.

"Be back at four-thirty!" he heard Allen yell out.

He fast walked, with a little bit of car-dodging and bumping through people, until he reached the corner to Rue de Rennes. He was starting to sweat a bit, the days becoming warmer and the sun visiting more often. The man in a hurry folded his sleeves' up to his elbow. His forelock was smacking onto his sticky face, giving him a reason to wear his bandana.

There were times when Lavi thought Paris was huge, but Paris seemed small at that time when he saw Kanda walking down the busy streets. He was easy to spot, as he was tall and had long black hair that stood out from the typical Parisian's lighter color palette.

Running to him, Lavi called out and approached him with haste as he took hold of Kanda's shoulder. Instinctively, the other man jerked in reflex and spun around.

"Hey there."

"D-Don't surprise me like that!" Kanda breathed out. He thought Lavi was some kind of mugger or pickpocket, something common in Paris streets.

Lavi chuckled nervously and apologized, "Sorry, I was scared I'd lose you."

Kanda wished he said those lines differently because they sounded strangely out of context. "Seriously." A sigh escaped from his lips. It was impossible to get used to Lavi.

"A-Anyway," he said, but really, he failed to come up with a plan. Looking around as he sheepishly scrubbed his neck with Kanda beginning to get bored, his eyes took notice of the huge building with the letters FNAC on it. If he wasn't mistaken it was a bookshop, remembering to having been in the same shop but only in a different arrondissement. With his quick-witted mind, he came up with a Plan A. "I want to play a game."

Kanda was starting to worry. "A game," he echoed, hesitantly waiting for Lavi to explain himself. Was he talking about amusement parks? Arcades?

"Come with me." Lavi grabbed his hand and steered him across the street.

"Hey! Wait, where are..." they stopped in front of FNAC, the bookshop Lavi thought of. "A bookstore?" Of course, it wasn't arcades. Lavi wouldn't be Lavi if he was that predictable.

"I shall explain the mechanics once we are inside, please follow me." Lavi's uncanny smile and wordplay made Kanda's anxiety worse.

Once inside, the full blast of the AC and bright lights welcomed them. "This better be worth my time, bastard."

Lavi walked further in and stopped in the center, where the various shelves parted. "In under one minute, we'll pick a book, any book."

"I don't see the importance of doing this, especially with you," Kanda reacted, obviously getting annoyed.

"The book we'll pick should describe ourselves. For example, uh..." Lavi quickly went to a shelf and came back with a book, presenting the cover to Kanda.

"_Into The Rising Sun_..." Kanda didn't know whether Lavi implied he was a war veteran or had a strange affinity for the Japanese. "And?"

"I'm a war junkie. I research a lot about wars. It's something I randomly do, like, read about World War I or something much historical, like a country's war for independence. I don't know, it's sad when I read about these things. But I feel like I should know about it to honor the people who died fighting."

Lavi could be such an honorable man if he chose to be, Kanda thought. It was new information, but he was failing to see the point. Telling Lavi about himself wouldn't be a safe thing to do. "And I have to do this too?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? I want to learn more about you." Lavi gestured the perplexed man to wait and came back with another book, this time with the cover of deviled eggs and the words "_Hors d'Oeuvres_" on it. "It's a book I chose for you."

"But I'm not particularly good in preparing _hors d'oeuvres_."

"Oh." Lavi sounded disheartened, but quickly recovered with a persuasive reply, "See? I had no idea you aren't good at making... ho... horse devours or what. Were you aware I liked researching about wars?"

"No."

"Exactly." Lavi brought back the two books. "Now, let's come back at those comfy chairs over there after one minute with a book, 'kay?"

"I don't get why we're doing this."

"It's just that, you used to tell me we don't know much about each other. I just realized that it's true. So I want to do something about it."

Lavi was the only one capable of making him blush so much. The indescribable charm of that person was something Kanda couldn't resist. For the past few weeks, he had done things he wouldn't normally do. Picking out books describing himself in a bookstore would be one of them.

"This is ridiculous." It was a Wednesday, he recalled. He should be relaxing at home by then, trying a new recipe, catering his plants, watching television, exercising, but there he was, standing in front of the fiction section, searching for a book. He grabbed one with a familiar cover just to get it over with.

Back at their meeting point, Kanda presented him his choice of book. Lavi stared at the vintage-styled cover, with the words "_Murder on the Eiffel Tower_" in old-fashioned fonts, and gave him a nervous look. "Don't tell me you killed someone in the Eiffel Tower."

A glare was what he received in return. "You said a book to describe me. I live in Paris. There, we're done. Can I go home now?"

"W-Wait! Take this more seriously," Lavi pleaded. "My turn, to give you an example."

Kanda didn't even know what to say when he saw Lavi's book. _Dating A Cougar _wasn't something he expected. "What's with that repulsing book?"

"I like older women," Lavi confessed. He meant to be completely honest to Kanda, but the other man got it the wrong way.

Kanda couldn't help but feel somewhat insulted. "If this whole thing is meant to piss me off, it's working." He shoved the book he held into a random shelf and was about to walk away until Lavi stopped him.

"No, wait, you're getting the wrong idea. I'm trying to be honest here, 'cause I want you to be completely honest with me too," the redhead explained. "Yeah, I like it when I'm dating someone older, but that doesn't mean I love you any less."

Shit. He said it. He said "love". That was not part of his plan. _At all_. But it came out so naturally that he didn't even realize it himself. Somehow, it felt just right. He used to find it hard to say "I love you" to his past relationships. Now, that those words came out of his mouth, he really felt that he could say it to Kanda over and over again.

"And besides, aren't you older than me? That makes you my type."

"Don't you ever stop doing that?" Kanda asked in a low voice, his back facing Lavi.

"Stop what?"

"S-Saying embarrassing shit in public!" It was fortunate that that French knew little English. Their conversations didn't get much attention.

Lavi was unable to see his face, but he figured Kanda would be all red and embarrassed, so he decided to tease him a little more just because he could. "But it's true, I do lov-"

Kanda spun violently, grabbing Lavi's bandana down and smothered his face with it, muffling his words. Afterwards, he marched away and disappeared behind a shelf.

Lavi, freeing himself from the choke of his bandana, spotted Kanda's figure disappear. Thinking he was leaving, he shouted, "Yu! Wait! Where're ya going?"

"Getting a book, dumbass." Lavi heard him but he was nowhere in his field of vision. His lips formed to a smile, muttering to himself, "You could be so cute sometimes."

Another minute gone by and they were holding two new books again. Lavi urged Kanda to go first. He hesitated at first, but did it anyway. His book was titled _Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in The Culinary Underbelly_ with a cover showing a face of a familiar man.

A few seconds later, he remembered and pointed at the smiling face on the cover. "That guy... I saw him on t.v. before. He was a judge in a cooking show."

"Anthony Bourdain."

"Right." Lavi smiled. "Proceed."

"I..." Kanda started. Really, why was he doing this? He should've just taken a Murakami book and tell Lavi he was Japanese. Though, the man wouldn't be satisfied with that. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "One reason I took culinary was because I can't stand the thought of doing the same thing everyday. I hate it. I hate routines. I hate not being able to tell the difference between today and tomorrow. But with my line of work, everyday would be different. I can..."

Kanda trailed off on purpose, not wanting to talk further. His eyes focused more on the wooden floor than Lavi, who had been silent. He was waiting for a reaction before he would look up at him, but he wasn't saying a word. Slowly tilting his head up, Kanda took a peek at Lavi, a smile seemingly trying to muffle laughter planted on his face.

"You're annoying. I'm going home." Kanda announced, irritated with Lavi's smug look.

"Huh? I'm actually happy." Lavi's grin shifted into a gentler, warmer smile. The usual "Lavi" smile, as Kanda liked to refer to it—warm, genuine, lazy. "I'm happy you're telling me this. I expected you to get a Haruki Murakami book and just say you're both Japanese."

"How..." Kanda could have sworn Lavi had some kind of psychic power. He felt like the whole get-a-book-that-describes-yourself thing wasn't necessary. Lavi knew him too much already. He wasn't aware of some facts, some personal ideals, sure. But nevertheless, he knew Kanda so well already, that it sort of saddened him that he wasn't putting effort on getting to know Lavi.

_Not_... that it was important or anything.

Besides, he was just playing along Lavi's little relationship game. Lavi might be acting all serious now, but Kanda was certain he would choose a nice, beautiful Parisian woman over him once he got the chance.

"Alright, my turn." Lavi's voice snapped him out of his dispiriting thoughts. He revealed his book from his back. It was a storybook—_La Belle Au Bois Dormant_. Kanda waited for an explanation. "Got this from the children's books section. It's Sleepin' Beauty, right?"

"I think so," Kanda assured, crossing his arms.

"Good, for a second there I thought it was a different fairytale, but then I remembered _dormant_ is kind of like a conjugated _dormir_." Kanda was getting bored. Lavi noticed this and cleared his throat before speaking, "Okay, so, I love to sleep. Well, everyone does. I, however, try to avoid staying up late. My history classes were hell, and I haven't had a goodnight sleep ever since. I shifted to your class, and it really felt... carefree."

"Carefree?" Kanda asked angrily.

"I-I'm not saying it's easy, honestly, it's really complicated and I haven't gotten used to it. But I slept well for the past few days. And I'm beyond relieved. I get to take afternoon naps at work, I get to sleep early because classes end in the afternoon instead of eight in the fucking evening. It's a nice change of pace." Lavi finished with a cheerful laugh.

The redhead seemed to have forgotten his main purpose of bringing Kanda to a bookshop. They picked one book after another, and it was a mystery whether Kanda enjoyed it. But after a while, he had stopped saying "I want to go home". Lavi's little game wasn't in vain, though. He got to see Kanda's different expressions in less than an hour, and he especially liked it when he showed him a book entitled "_Vingt Mille Lieues Sous Les Mers_". Lavi had read it, but he didn't recognize the title at first glance since it was in French, lately realizing it was actually _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea_. The redhead wondered why Kanda appeared rather embarrassed, only to find out that the smaller man didn't know how to swim, and there _was_ a possibility he'd be twenty thousand leagues under the sea if he was thrown in it.

Lavi countered by showing him Dan Brown's _Digital Fortress_ which had a cover with waterfalls of numbers and some phrases in between. "I have this affection for numbers," was his starting phrase. He meant numbers as any number-related puzzles, riddles, conundrums and the like, and not necessarily referring to literal mathematics.

When it was time to pick a book again, Lavi walked by a wall clock and was surprised his break would end in fifteen minutes. He needed to wrap things up. As he was scanning through a bookshelf, Kanda took Lavi by surprise when he suddenly spoke behind him. "Your break's almost over."

"Yeah, I know, this'll be the last—" Lavi stopped abruptly. "How did you know?"

"H-How? Well, I..." He couldn't bring himself to say that he accidentally memorized Lavi's breaks. "I—Just shut up and get this over with."

"You go first, I don't have a book yet," Lavi said.

His book was _The Secret Garden_. "I kind of have a secret garden on my balcony. It's not that great, though," Kanda said with humility. Lavi didn't believe his "not that great", considering how much praise his little garden got from the cafe's staff. He had seen it with his own eyes, with his homegrown herbs and lilacs and such, and it could be seen as foliage of colors from the outside.

"I think it's beautiful."

Lavi caught Kanda's little blush before his head turned to hide his face. "My turn, huh," he said casually as he looked around. Then, he caught a glimpse of a book, right on the most bottom shelf just beside him. He had read it before. It was perfect.

_Far From The Madding Crowd_ by Thomas Hardy was perfect.

"So, uh, the cover doesn't really say anything but..." he paused, looking at the cover showing the fields of the story's setting, Weatherbury. "How do I say this? Well, I used to avoid any attachment to people, _far from the madding crowd_. I moved a lot, so I learned to make friends that I knew would be a temporary deal. I get attached easily, and I realized I only get hurt in the end, because then gramps and I would move, I'd have to leave them, hurting both my friends and myself. So, I was pretty plastic back then. I was an absolute fake." For a second, he stopped. "Have you read this book? I remembered reading it a few years back. Basically, the characters here have extremely bad luck. Most of the characters died because of it. It reminds me of me. I don't _exactly_ have good luck, but ever since I met you, I've always had good luck, y'know? Good things just happen to me. Just like how Bathsheba seemed to regain her luck whenever she's with Gabriel."

Kanda's stomach churned nervously. At times like this, he really wished he could say something back like a witty retort or an insult. But he just couldn't. There were those pesky winged insects in his stomach again. He had to keep reminding himself not to fall for Lavi. It used to be a very easy task, as easy as making mashed potatoes. But lately, he grudgingly found it harder and harder to do. In the end, Kanda never got the chance to say anything, not even a witty retort or an insult.

It was also a good thing that they were in the secluded part of the bookstore, fortunately covered by bookshelves on all necessary directions.

Time was ticking and Lavi needed to head back. He put the book back to the shelf and was preparing himself to say goodbye. He couldn't bear being separated from Kanda, but it was something that couldn't be helped. And as much as he would love to walk Kanda home, he had work. If he didn't work, he'd be penniless. If he had no money, he wouldn't be able to buy Kanda a gift.

Holy _shit_, a gift. Lavi still had one problem. He had completely forgotten his Plan A.

"That was fun, right?" He beamed before saying with a heavy heart, "Anyway, I should be heading back."

"Yeah, sure." Kanda nodded just as bleakly.

Lavi caught him by surprise and moved in closer to give the other man a soft, ephemeral kiss. It wasn't on the cheek, not the forehead, not even on the lips. He kissed him on the corner of his mouth. It was quick and lasted for only a second.

Kanda's body tingled with the touch. The kiss was very unusual, especially for Lavi who was assertive and usually aimed for the lips. It felt kind of special. Kanda had the strange urge to run his fingers through Lavi's hair and pull him into another kiss. He mentally kicked himself, trying to get rid of the impure thoughts. That sort of feeling never happened before. He sort of hated it. And he hated the fact that he was unsure whether he hated it or not.

_Allen Walker was in front of the cafe when the clock turned four-forty-six._ It was a terrible walk back. Leaving Kanda so suddenly weakened him. And the fact that he still had no gift idea was an awful feeling.

"You're late."

"For only a few minutes, yeah," Lavi replied. He muttered under his breath, "Jesus."

Lavi wasn't angry, but he felt frustrated that there was still no progress regarding Kanda's present. His birthday was already tomorrow. Heading to the back of the house and slipping on his apron, he heard a voice behind him.

"I wish I can fire you," the assistant manager, Reever, frustratingly said, shaking his head in disappointment. "If you weren't a Bookman, you'd be fired for being such a bludger."

"I'm not always like this you know." He paused to purse his lips. "And I'm not a bludger... whatever that is."

"Uh-huh," he said with sarcasm. "Just make sure you won't slack off today," Reever headed to his office as he talked. "I heard you don't have school tomorrow, so be here at seven."

"Wha—" Lavi thought he had misheard the Aussie's words. "No school?"

"Suspended, I think. Consider yourself lucky." He closed the door, leaving Lavi.

"No way." He stared into space in disbelief. It was like the heavens (and the university) gave him a chance to get the perfect gift. He considered the fact that kissing Kanda was some sort of good luck charm, as he tried to be as modest as possible with his goodbye kiss. He should do that more often.

While serving customers and taking their orders, Lavi was trying to sum up all the information he had gathered from the bookstore. The get-a-book part came in quite handy, as he wasn't good at remembering general facts about people, a bad habit he had developed through years of making temporary friends. But he remembered all the books Kanda chose, and it made it easier for him to recall what he had said.

_Murder On The Eiffel Tower_ was the first, but wasn't relevant. Next to that was the Anthony Bourdain book. Maybe he should buy him kitchenware, like a set of knives or aluminum mixing bowls. Lavi shook his head. It was most likely that Kanda already owned every utensil a student chef needed. He remembered seeing an immersion blender in his kitchen, something he had only seen in cooking shows.

Before the _Twenty Thousand Leagues_ book was an old magazine issue of _Cuisine Et Vins De France_ with a cover of autumnal vegetables and fruits on it. If he was correct, Kanda said something about liking pumpkins.

"Maybe I can make him a pumpkin dish?" he asked himself in his mind. That seemed like a great idea. Pros would include Kanda liking his dish, Kanda praising him, and automatic points because it was made from pumpkins. Cons would be Lavi failing miserably in making the dish, as it would be the first time for him to make such meals.

That was a nice gift and all, but Lavi felt it wasn't quite enough. Food could be consumed, whereas an item could hold sentimental value. Kanda hated useless things, so he might not like it if he gave him something like a ring, or a random household item. It should be gift-worthy, but useful at the same time

Back at the kitchen, Lavi brought in dirty dishes to the sink. He caught Jerry walk past him and found it his chance to ask, "What can you make with pumpkin?"

The executive chef stopped in his tracks and turned to the asker. "Hmmm." He looked up to the ceiling, thinking. "Pumpkin pie's the most popular."

"Eh, it reminds me of Thanksgiving."

"Pumpkins can be hard to find in this time of the year, though..." Just then, Allen walked in, informing the staff to prepare three orders of the cafe's Soup of the Day. Jerry heard this and suggested, "How 'bout pumpkin soup?"

Lavi's pupil widened in interest. "Will Yu like that?"

Jerry grinned. He gladly replied, "_Oui_. It's one of his favorite soups."

_The 6th of June came by carrying its summer breeze._ As Reever instructed, Lavi came to the shop at exactly seven. Instead of wearing his usual waiter outfit, he arrived clad in his student chef uniform, with a bag of groceries and a strong purpose.

The station chefs didn't mind Lavi's borrowing of the kitchen. They were amused, wanting to see how well the redhead could cook. Their morning customers ordered mostly hot beverages and bread, so the kitchen wouldn't be as busy.

"Perfect timing, sweetie." Jerry walked into the kitchen, his hips swaying languidly. "Kanda will be here shortly."

"What the hell?" Lavi was surprised. He expected Kanda to arrive at about noon.

"He'll just drop by for breakfast and head to the airport, just outside of Paris." It was a good thing Jerry knew Kanda's schedule for the day. Tiedoll had called the cafe in advance to inform them about his arrival. "His uncle will arrive at ten. Then, they'll pick up Marie in the Right Bank. I think he lives on the 9th. Then they'll meet up with Daisya somewhere around the Latin Quarter. It's basically just a family outing. It has been a long time since his uncle came home. They'll visit the cafe in the evening."

Lavi didn't know how to feel. They barely even had time to spend together. But he was spending time with his family, a rather rare moment according to Jerry, so Lavi understood.

"That's why you better start preparing that soup."

"Yeah, ah, damn it," The pressure was beginning to trouble him. He wasn't used cooking with a time limit. And without Kanda nonetheless. "You'll help me right?"

Jerry pouted. "As much as I want to, I can't darling, I'm sorry." The executive chef explained he had to take care of the deliveries from their suppliers. Lavi panicked. "But! My lovely apprentice can help you!"

Lavi turned to Lenalee who had just finished tying her apron and folding her sleeves. He looked at her, unsure.

"What's with that look?" the girl asked, narrowing her eyes and pouting her lip-glossed mouth.

"Nothing." the one-eyed laughed. "I've always thought we were at the same level when it comes to cooking."

"I've leveled up big time. You'll see."

Lavi started by performing a _mise-en-place_, a technique Kanda taught him that included placing all the mandatory ingredients on the table and putting out the utensils needed to prepare a dish. Technically, making pumpkin soup didn't need much utensils, but Lavi had to make sure everything would go perfectly as planned. He had practiced making it at home and failed on his first try, stupidly heating the pumpkin in a microwave too long.

"I won't be a bother. Just tell me what to do." The girl's smile made Lavi calm down, even just a bit. At least Lenalee was there in case something went wrong.

He took out a moderately sized pumpkin. Even though Jerry warned him it would be hard to find, he stumbled upon one easily in Buci, the market where he and Kanda went to several weeks ago. He held a knife against the middle part of a whole pumpkin. Amateur hands shook slightly. It was his first time making a French dish without Kanda—no one to correct him, no one to tell him how and what to chop. He needed a confidence boost. He was doing this for Kanda. He couldn't afford any mistakes or half-hearted cuts.

With great strength, he cut the huge orange fruit in half. And as it split open, Lavi sighed in triumph. Lavi peeled and scooped the seeds out of the first half, while Lenalee handled the other half. When they were both done, it was obvious Lenalee's half had much cleaner cuts.

"Can you toast some bread for me?" Lavi requested, handing his pretty helper a bowl of sourdough cubes. "I have to cut these sons-of-bitches."

"I'll heat the oven, then." Lenalee gladly followed, preheating the oven before spreading the bread cubes on some sheet pans.

While Lenalee was busy with the bread, Lavi chopped some onions and cloves of garlic before getting himself a pot, making sure it was a heavy-bottomed one, and placed it over a stove set into medium heat.

Lenalee noticed how Lavi seemed to throw the onions and garlic onto the buttered pot with fear, as if scared to get burned by the jumping oil. She laughed, saying, "We are _so_ not in the same level."

"I think you've made that obvious," Lavi submitted his defeat as he stirred the onions with a wooden spatula. The French sure loved their onions. "I know facts, not procedures."

The onions were beginning to turn translucent when Lenalee asked, "Why did you suddenly want to make pumpkin soup?"

Should Lavi tell her? It's not strange if he wanted to cook for a guy, right? From the corner of his eye, he saw Lenalee taking out the bread. "It's for Yu. He cooked for me so many times, so I want to at least cook something for him too."

"Ooh. When? Have you been to his place?"

Lavi felt his face flush. "N-No. I mean, in school. You know, _just_ in school."

"Oh. I get it. You're doing this for his birthday!" Lenalee said happily, clapping her hands. "Tiedoll is coming over, too. I miss him. He hasn't been around for so long."

Lavi gestured Lenalee to hand him the carton of brown chicken broth. "Is he that famous?" he questioned, curious. He poured the broth onto the pot, causing less smoke to come out.

"He began as a landscape artist here in Paris. He became renowned for being a traditional painter, unlike the modern artists these days. He's coming back from Venice." She helped Lavi in pitching the pumpkin cubes onto the now simmering broth-filled pot. She continued, "He treats Kanda like a son. But he didn't turn out into a spoiled brat, thankfully. That's what you call good parenting."

"Hah. I used to be a spoiled kid," Lavi confessed, laughing faintly.

"You don't seem like one," the Chinese said, watching Lavi emptying the contents of a crème fraîche cup on the bulks of orange-colored cubes and broth.

"My grandfather decided to change that by throwing me here in Paris with a job as a waiter." Lavi chortled. "He'll be glad to know it's working." He remembered that time when he applied for a job in a breakfast diner in Manhattan just to see his crush every morning. That didn't last too long, though. He got tired of it quickly, and the girl wasn't who he expected when they finally talked.

As the almost-pumpkin-soup simmered, Jerry pushed the kitchen doors open, checking to see Lavi and Lenalee's progress. "Looking good." He nodded his head and whiffed the aroma. "If this turns out great, we can make it our _soupe du jour_."

Lavi stared in disbelief. "You're serious?" He estimated a fifty-percent chance that he would fail. "I only got this recipe from the internet, though."

"It doesn't matter, as long as it meets my standards," the experienced chef encouraged. "And Kanda's standards, too, of course."

Lavi got nervous again. The thought of Kanda disliking his soup was frightening. Several minutes later, Jerry had left and the sun was fully out, the soup was ready to be puréed. Lenalee brought in the immersion blender—a long, white stick blender that could be mistaken as an alien probe device, at least, that was what Lavi thought it was.

"Can't we just, you know, use a blender or food processor or something?" He didn't know how to use the said blender. When he practiced at home, he just puréed with an old food processor and it turned out just fine.

"But we need to get the perfect consistency."

"I don't know how to use that thing!"

"Neither do I! Let's just try it!"

"No. Nope. _Na-uh_. If we mess this up—!"

"What are you people all rattly about?" Allen interrupted the bickering, his exceptional English accent resonating around the kitchen. He didn't need an explanation when he saw Lavi wearing a chef uniform, trying to pry an immersion blender from Lenalee's hands. Wearing the waiter outfit sans apron, Allen went over to what Lenalee and Lavi was cooking.

"What're you making?"

"Pumpkin soup," Lavi said as he finally got rid of the stick blender from the now frowning girl.

"For Kanda?"

"Why, yes." Lavi didn't know how Allen managed to know that, but the kid's clever, so he wasn't that all surprised. "They say a way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

Allen scoffed. "If it's Kanda, _stomach_ should be replaced with _taste buds_."

"You have a point." Lavi shifted his focus back on his pumpkin soup, which was starting to boil by now. He lessened the heat. He eyed the pot. "Anyhow, we need to purée this bitch down."

"Well, good luck. I suggest using an immersion blender than a normal blender, though." Allen went off to the front.

So, they still ended up using the immersion blender. Luckily, Jerry had time to teach them. Slowly but surely, the once lumpy pot of pumpkin smoothed down and had refined into a nice texture. And when Jerry tasted it, he let out sounds of satisfaction.

"Mmm…" Lavi waited in anticipation for Jerry's assessment. "For your first pumpkin soup, it's quite wonderful. The texture's almost perfect; let's hope Kanda won't notice that."

"Knowing him, he probably will," Lavi said. He felt proud of himself. He didn't mess up which was a miracle. He really was a lucky guy. He thought the immersion blender would be a bad idea, but when he tried it, it really wasn't that hard. It just shook in his hands and began mashing up the onions and garlic and pumpkins that were mixed in the broth. And _voila_, it came out seamlessly as a well-made pumpkin soup.

The bell that perched above the café's entrance rang differently for some reason. The only waiter currently on the floor was Allen, who saw Kanda came in. His eyes widened. "Oh, shit," he muttered and hurried over to the back to inform Lavi.

When he reached the kitchen, Lavi was already holding a bowl of pumpkin soup, garnished with golden brown cubes of toasted sourdough, and a finishing of melted Gruyere cheese on top of everything.

"Wow. It looks normal," Allen commented upon seeing the pretty light orange-colored soup. "Anyway, you're just in time. The prick's already here and he just ordered Matcha."

"You hand it to him!" Lavi (carefully) shoved the bowl into Allen's hands.

"H-Hey, why me?" the short man protested, giving back the bowl to Lavi, whose hands purposely being hidden. "You should be the one giving this to him, I thought this was your present?!"

"I can't—give _this_ myself. I'm scared shitless here!"

Allen's good soul couldn't just leave a friend in need. Sighing, he hesitantly agreed. "_Fine_."

"W-Wait!" Lavi whispered to Allen when he was about to go out. "D-Don't tell him I made it!"

Allen didn't want to be the one to give Kanda the soup, but he was the only waiter available and willing to help out Lavi.

"It's on the house," Allen said as he gently placed the bowl of soup as well as a cup of his preferred green tea on Kanda's table. Allen was a generally nice person, even though people weren't generally nice to him. And as much as it was against his will, he greeted Kanda a "happy birthday" which Kanda didn't bother responding to.

"Who made this?" was Kanda's first words.

"Eh..." Allen looked behind him to see Lavi and Lenalee peeking from behind the kitchen doors. He fought the urge to smile. "Just try it."

Kanda eyed the free meal suspiciously. It didn't look like Jerry's version, or the ones the other chefs used to make it. But it looked presentable enough to be acknowledged by Kanda. When he dipped his spoon to the orange liquid, he was surprised the consistency of the soup was just above average. He knew someone inexperienced made it. If it was Jerry, it would be perfect.

Kanda ate a spoonful. Allen didn't know why he was so nervous. He looked back again and still saw Lavi and Lenalee in the same location.

"H-How is it?"

Kanda didn't know why Allen would care, but he replied, "It's fine." He took a taste again, this time with a cube of bread and melted Swiss Gruyère. It wasn't just fine, it was actually pretty good. Allen rushed back to where Lavi was.

"So? What'd he say?" Lavi nervously asked.

"He likes it."

He couldn't describe the feeling. He just did something Kanda liked, which was very uncommon. He smacked his lips, faking a cry. Lenalee felt just as happy. Kanda was a hard man to please, particularly when it's about food.

When Allen came back to get the bowl, Kanda was already done and drinking a glass of water. Before the white-haired boy could speak, Kanda asked again, hoping for a decent answer, "Who made it?"

As he asked this, Allen's eyes traveled to his bowl, which was completely empty. He must've really liked it. And Kanda was strangely approachable today, Allen thought. The soup probably had some aphrodisiac in it, considering it was Lavi who made it. He hated lying, so he just went on with it. "It's Lavi. He says happy birthday."

Kanda almost choked from his drink and fought back a blush. The downside of his pale face was how easily it reddened. And Allen noticed this immediately. He raised one eyebrow in suspicion.

"O-Oh." Kanda stood up shakily. Why was he so worked up? So, Lavi made it, no big deal. He kind of understood why he took him to the bookshop yesterday. "Tell him…" he trailed off. He couldn't come up with the next words. _Thank you_ would be nice. But it felt off coming from him. "Nothing. Thanks for the food."

He left with those words. Allen felt he had something much more to say. Going back to Lavi with the empty bowl and cup, he told him, "He just left."

Lavi sighed in relief. "Did he say anything?"

Allen lied. "He said _thank you_."

_It was three-thirty in the afternoon and Lavi's fighting spirit he gained in the morning decreased. _More so when he found out Kanda and Tiedoll wouldn't drop by that night, as his uncle had booked a restaurant someplace in the 7th arrondisement.

"Gardening, cooking, half-vegan," Lavi whispered as he waited for a dish to be served to a customer. He half-joked, "He'd make a great wife."

"Stop talking to yourself. You'll scare the customers." The troubled waiter spun until he saw Reever's unpleasant look. "Go back to work."

"Reever, hey, I have a question," Lavi said, intentionally ignoring Reever's warning.

"Yeah, me too, why aren't you working?"

"No, man, this is serious. A gift. I need to think of a gift."

The assistant manager sighed loudly, "You're still worrying about that? I thought that soup was your gift?"

"I feel like it's not enough." Lavi frowned, playing his forelock that was waxed to the side. "An item is different."

"Let me give you a tip. When you're stumped for gift ideas, just get something in their favorite color."

"It's red." he paused, repeating his words, "His favorite is red." Realizing this, he thought of everything that was red.

"It looks like you're getting something," Reever suspected. "I thought his favorite was blue, though. I never see him wear red."

"Red gets too much attention."

"Like you."

"Like me?"

"Yeah, you're loud and colorful. You attract too much attention."

"Like me..." he whispered the same words again, suddenly he stopped breathing. He had an idea. It was a pathetic one, but it was still an idea. "Yeah, like me! I have an idea! When's my break?"

Reever decided to be nice for once. "Now."

Later that day, Lavi tried to phone Kanda. He had just finished picking up his supposed gift and was done with work. The night was young, and he had heard from the café staff that Kanda would be in the 7th. Lavi hoped the restaurant he was in would be near his place.

The summer breeze passed by him, and the ringing next to Lavi's ear stopped. "What do you want?"

As expected, Kanda wasn't one who would say _hello_. "Where are you now?"

"H-Huh? I'm with my uncle," Kanda replied from the other line. "In L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon."

"Where is that?"

"Montalembert—why are you asking all of this? Hey—" Lavi hung up and got on his scooter.

"Montalembert, huh." If his memory was correct, it was near Rue du Bac. He was in Rennes at the moment. He just needed to follow the Métro's direction. It was practically just two stations away. He drove off without a helmet, feeling the warm night as he rode his Vespa scooter. His heart was beating fast because of excitement.

His belief that Paris was a small city never faltered, because as he passed by Rue de Bac to turn right to Montalembert, his vision caught the words "L'Atelier" in red and "de Joel Robuchon" in white, just above a sleek entrance of a restaurant.

It caught his eye. The front of the restaurant was modern in design, decked by dark glass. The lights inside were enough to let him see the people dining indoors. He texted Kanda to come out of the building. Lavi saw Kanda came out of the restaurant after he parked his scooter just across. It was almost seven.

"You…" Kanda murmured, looking at Lavi with a beautiful, troubled expression.

Lavi smiled unconsciously, eyeing the man head to toe. He looked remarkably dashing tonight. He was used to Kanda wearing a coat, but he wasn't at that time, and he seemed different. "I was just at Rennes, so it isn't that far."

"What are you doing here?" Kanda asked him as crossed his arms.

"Did ya like that soup I made for you?" Lavi asked with a laugh, the sound youthful and cynical.

The corner of Kanda's mouth quirked and said, "I-It's below average." His eyes averted, indicating he was lying. "I can't even believe you made something normal."

"That's not what you said to Allen earlier," he teased him more.

"It's different from the café's usual. It has an ingredient I can't… figure out."

"Ah. I made sure to put in a tablespoon of love, of course."

Kanda's throat tightened. In the dark, his flushed face wasn't as obvious. "Did you come here just to tell me that?"

"I want to give you this," Lavi said and walked closer the man in front of him, pulling Kanda's hand, which seemed to regain its softness, and slipping in something in palm and closed it into a fist.

"What's…" When he opened his balled hands, there against his skin was cold metal—a simple key.

"Happy Birthday," Lavi greeted with a gentle voice. "I'm giving you myself as a gift. It's a spare key to my apartment. You can go there anytime you like, y'know, when you're lonely and feel like crap. Feel free to borrow me anytime."

Shock, anger, happiness, he didn't know. Kanda wasn't sure what kind of emotion shot though him. It couldn't be possible he had fallen for that guy. Panicking, he wondered if he should say something. His heart pounded when Lavi looked into his uneasy eyes.

"A-As if anyone would willingly go to your place." He swiftly looked away and crossed his arms. "I don't even know what your apartment looks like."

"Would ya like to find out later tonight?" Lavi joked

"No way," the one wearing a pair of cornflower blue Christian Lacroix pants from the latest spring-summer collection said shakily. Kanda's next reply wasn't something Lavi could've expected. "Maybe t-t-tomorrow, after... after school."

If it was possible, Lavi would've died because of how adorable he was Happiness just bubbled up in him. Everything between them was going so well, that Lavi would break down into pieces if something bad would happen.

* * *

**A/N: If anyone still cares for this, here's an update. College is keeping me busy, I can't really write too much, but this fic's fun to write 'cause I have French and Prof. Cookery courses. It kinda gets me all inspired sometimes.**

**Thanks to everyone who reads this, there's never enough love for this pair.**

**Review if you like pumpkin soup! (Although I prefer winter squash more, lol)**


	7. Lapin à la Moutarde

_**Les Rêves des Amoureux Sont Comme le Bon Vin**_

* * *

**Recipe Seven**

**July**

_**"Lapin à la Moutarde"**_

* * *

_**Ingredients:**_

_2 rabbits, 2 to 3 pounds each_

_4 tablespoons butter_

_4 shallots, chopped_

_1 cup dry white wine_

_1 cup rabbit broth_

_½ cup heavy cream_

_2 tablespoons Dijon-style mustard _

_ salt_ _and_ _pepper_

* * *

_There was this lovely Sunday morning in July when Kanda tasted a rather different onion soup_. Different in a positive way, as much as he hated to admit it. It had a nice tang—kind of nutty and belonged to the sweeter side. The soup was, in a sense, pleasing to both the eyes and mouth.

To sum it up, the soup was delicious.

Lavi's French onion soup was very delicious.

Kanda didn't want to say that to Lavi, not when the said man was staring at him as he ate, awaiting for his reaction. Uncomfortable, he let the spoon swim half way in the bowl of brothy, cheesy goodness.

"It's..." He needed to think of a flaw. "It's rigid. And stringy." He stopped for the big one. "Cheese lacks flavor."

"What? But I used the right cheese. You said Swiss cheese!" Lavi panicked. "I wasted my week's salary on cheese from the Alps rather than good 'ol American cheddar."

"I said Gruyère Swiss cheese." Kanda rolled his eyes before unconsciously scooping another spoon of soup. "Knowing you, you probably just heard the Swiss part."

"Shit," Lavi muttered, pacing around Kanda's pristine kitchen floors made of amber cherrywood, both his hands on his waist. He failed to notice Kanda delightfully preying on his onion soup. "Extra credit's tomorrow and I bought a kilogram of the wrong cheese."

Now, Kanda wasn't sure why, but somehow he felt a rather strange lapse in his chest when he saw Lavi all disappointed that his cheese was Emmentaler instead of Gruyère. It didn't really make much of a difference, honestly. Gruyère was more flavorful, but only the likes of Kanda would notice the very little difference.

"It's great." Lavi thought Kanda wasn't in the right mind when he said in a silent voice, "I didn't say it tastes bad."

He needed to ask, though he knew he heard it right. Closer, he walked slowly toward where Kanda sat. "What?"

"I said..." Kanda spun his chair back to the onion soup. He didn't want to look at Lavi, not with his cheeks resembled the skin of red onions—which Lavi miraculously caramelized correctly, since he burned them the first time he tried. "It's... g-gr-good. _Good_. What did you put in anyway?"

A small smirk found a way to Lavi's lips. "Good, huh?" He repeated. He was pretty sure Kanda previously said an entirely different word that made a lot of difference. Proudly, he answered, "I put on some booze and, uh, apple cider."

"Where did you get that idea?" Kanda asked, mainly because he was impressed, fighting back the urge to take another bite of Lavi's exquisite soup.

"You, actually." Lavi spun the other bar chair with his hands before sitting on it. "You mentioned Madeira before. Put some in while the onions shrink. Oh, but the cider stuff I got from Rachel Ray. Don't worry. Lady knows what she's doing."

Kanda smiled, thinking how Lavi would forget the little things but never the important ones. Lavi caught the quick moment of Kanda's emotions and decided not to mention it. If he did, Kanda, as usual, would get all worked up and deny it with all his being. He was just as stubborn as Lavi, so arguments between them usually went nowhere.

"It's good." He saw a glimpse of Lavi's growing smile, not noticing that he was smiling as well.

There was something about Lavi's ego that was easy to bruise, and it bloats just as fast too. Kanda was aware of that, and he knew the right amount of praise to shower him with. He caught Lavi's smile and wondered what made him happy. Shrugging it off, Kanda shifted to face the bowl of onion soup but found it to be empty. He didn't notice finishing it all. And he realized it really was delicious.

"Ya think I'll get a nifty grade if I make this?" Lavi asked, getting himself a bowl of his own creation.

"Probably." Kanda relaxed in his chair, full and satisfied, and rested he chin on his palm. "The recipe's from me after all."

"Right," the other guy said. "Reminds me. I forgot to give this back yesterday."

Lavi handed him a thick, moderately old notebook which Kanda affectionately put together. The onion soup recipe was in it. It was kind of a scrapbook, but less ribbons and frills, and looked more like different recipes from magazines and cookbooks glued together. Of course, they weren't ordinary recipes. The recipes were hand-picked by Kanda, some of them from Jerry, some of them even made by him alone, and Lavi could tell by the additional comments and notes written in marker that Kanda had already tried making the dishes, and added some personal commentaries like "_balsamic vinegar works too_" or "_basil optional_" or "_probably peppercorns for more flavor_". There was a purple yam cake recipe, a Southeast Asian delicacy, where Lavi found "_Lenalee likes this for some reason_" written in blue Sharpie next to the title. He smiled at Kanda's brotherly affections for the girl. And hopefully it would stay that way, Lavi thought. When Lavi first skimmed it, he wasn't necessarily interested in the recipes, but found himself loving every Sharpie notes Kanda had made.

Lavi found himself smiling wider while he ate, and was shocked when his soup actually tasted great. "Wow, did I really just make this?"

There was a pregnant pause. "Keep it for a while, the book."

In the middle of chewing, Lavi said with food still in his mouth, "Really?"

Kanda averted his gaze to the other direction. "You need it more than I do anyway."

"But what if you need to add some stuff?"

"I have it compiled on my phone, so it's fine."

"Neat." Lavi continued on eating when he noticed Kanda's sleek black phone on the countertop. It was the latest Samsung smartphone. It looked too big, Lavi thought. It was almost the same size as his palm, possibly bigger. He was pretty satisfied with his old, reliable, five-year-old iPhone. If it could text and call, why bother getting a new one, right?

"Can I borrow your phone? Just gonna play—"

Kanda blocked Lavi's extending arm that made a loud thump erupt, using his palm as barricade. Nervous, he warned, "N-No! Battery's dead."

"I saw you using it a while ago."

"That was ten minutes ago. Battery just died."

"Lemme charge it for you."

"I'll do it myself."

Lavi just shrugged it off. Kanda was acting strange. But then again, he always acted strange when they were together.

After they ate breakfast—courtesy of Lavi, the guest insisted on doing the clean-up, mentioning crap about how he didn't want to rough up Kanda's hands again. Sundays would usually be the days Lavi would invade Kanda's home and would stay until sundown. Wednesdays, too, unless Lavi had extra shifts. He liked how spacious and neat his condominium was. But he especially liked it because Kanda was there. But the host didn't seem to enjoy his company, so he tried his best to help out.

On the other hand, Kanda had yet to see Lavi's apartment. And it was such a shame since Lavi made an effort to clean up a little. Every time Lavi invited him over, Kanda would usually find an excuse not to go. It was anticlimactic whenever Kanda would turn him down at the end of the day.

Lavi spent an hour watching television. Thankfully there were channels showing re-runs of American television shows to keep him sane. Kanda sat not too far from him. They would talk from time to time. Sometimes it was just a clever comment from Lavi as they watched a re-run of Grey's Anatomy, and sometimes it was just Lavi casually starting a conversation. Kanda rarely started anything, and just went on with whatever Lavi wanted to talk about.

Lavi also liked asking random questions: How's your uncle doing? Have you been to _Sacré-Cœur_? If you had to drink one drink for one month, what would it be? Do you think Katherine Heigl is hot?

His questions were weird, but Kanda couldn't stop answering them—even the Katherine Heigl one.

They were in the middle of a discussion about McDreamy when a honking sound came out of Lavi's pockets. And it struck Kanda that it was just the other man's phone ringing.

Kanda got curious when Lavi's happiness vanished away from his face as soon as he saw who was calling. In a low voice, Lavi excused himself. "Sorry, gotta take this."

"Go to the balcony for signal."

Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. Then Kanda realized he was on the phone for half an hour. He didn't want to eavesdrop, but was sure as hell tempted to. Lavi seemed to be angry at one point, shouting and cursing. He wondered who was on the other line. Thinking it was a good opportunity, Kanda fast-walked back to his kitchen and picked his phone up.

He looked anxiously at the phone's previous location. Under the phone was a key. A duplicate key. His condominium unit's duplicate key to be exact. He inhaled deeply, let out a loud sigh, and grabbed the metallic thing, feeling its cold material against his sweating palms.

He peeked over at Lavi to see if he was still talking on the phone, and he was, and Kanda was still nervous. He didn't have the guts to give the key to Lavi. He didn't know what went over him and made him duplicate his key over at Rennes. His heart thumped so loudly he could hear it clearly. He pocketed the key and placed his hands on the counter.

He really shouldn't feel that nervous. It was just a key. He had Lavi's key, so it was only natural to give him his key as well. It shouldn't even be that hard, but his anxiety wouldn't leave him.

Looking around the kitchen, his eye caught the brown bag of groceries Lavi had bought earlier that morning. He walked over and browsed its contents. There were a lot of unnecessary ingredients that he probably bought on impulse. For one, he bought two medium-sized zucchinis and pancetta. Lavi mentioned buying it out of curiosity, thinking it can go with the French onion soup. It was a good thing Kanda hit his head before he could put them in the pan.

It would be a waste not to use them. So he decided to cook some stuffed zucchinis. Lavi left a lot of leftovers of onions and garlic, and the pancetta would be a nice addition to the stuffing. Hopefully, cooking would drive his nervousness away.

It took him ten minutes to bake the zucchini, ten to concoct the stuffing, and another ten minutes to oven up the whole thing; zucchini plus the stuffing. When he furtively looked at Lavi again, Kanda expected him to be glued towards the television again, but he wasn't. He was still on the phone and Kanda was getting suspicious.

It was impossible to see Lavi's face as he talked since he was facing outside, his elbows on the railings, but Kanda could hear him trying to suppress his loud, slightly angry voice. Kanda had never heard him this angry before, and it made him wonder even more who was on the other line. Maybe it was a friend? Or a family member? What if he was talking to his girlfriend back in New York? His heart leaped forward, with a slow burning sensation bubbling up inside it. He didn't notice his hand clutching the area where his heart was. It was painful. He had to admit it was more than painful, but he was too unyielding to ever admit the reason why.

He turned around back into his kitchen and glanced at his plated stuffed zucchinis. His anxiety was replaced with resentment. Resentment towards who, Kanda didn't want to know. But it wasn't Lavi that's for sure. He hated a lot of things about the guy, but he could never hate Lavi himself. He grabbed the plate tightly and headed out.

As if on cue, Lavi was in the living room looking for his bag. Kanda asked immediately as he saw him, "Who was that?"

"Oh? It was just, uh... my grandfather," Lavi said, moving around briskly and putting things in his bag in a rush. Kanda couldn't explain why he felt so relieved. "Sorry, I know it's sudden and I promised to stay until five, but I have to go somewhere important."

He didn't even had the time to ask where when he realized that his duplicate key remained hidden in his pockets. He stammered out, "W-Wait! I have to give you something!"

Lavi, already with his bag slumped over his shoulder, stopped when he was about to head to the door. "Damn it, you cooked something awesome again!" the redhead said, referring to the plate of stuffed zucchini, complaining that he had to go so early.

He walked hurriedly in front of a stiff Kanda and grabbed one stuffed zucchini with his hands, consuming a large chunk of it. He made a groaning sound as he chewed fast, obviously trying to convey it tasted good. "Tastes great, babe." With his mouth half-full, he gave Kanda a loud, sloppy smooch on the lips before saying in a hurry, "Stay amazing! Have to go!" then went out on his way.

As soon as the door closed and he was alone, he breathed out, "You idiot...!"

Hitting the coffee table with the plate he was holding, he dropped himself on the couch—his key still in his pockets and his stuffed zucchinis remained unconsumed.

_The following day, Lavi appeared at the food laboratory after successfully completing his extra credit_. Greeting first the Chef Julien at one side of room, he headed towards the counters of Yu Kanda, next to him Mickaël Célestin—their perpetual partner whenever groups were divided into threes. Lavi became Kanda's automatic partner when the activity needed pairs, but when it came to threes, Mickaël seemed to enjoy teaming up with them.

Lavi greeted his second groupmate with a casual "_bonjour_" but greeted Kanda more affectionately by adding a "_mon_ _chéri_" at the end. Mickaël, or Mickey, as the class chose to call him even though he clearly mentioned he had not been to any Disneylands, even the one located in Paris, had eyes and hair like cinnamon stalks, brown and profound, and got along fairly well with anyone, especially Lavi. He had a short stature, olive-skin and somewhat short fingers. It was fortunate he could speak grammatically correct, accented, English despite being a full-blooded Frenchman.

Lavi rubbed his hands together as if to warm them before rolling up his white sleeves. "So? Did I miss anything?"

Mickaël was the one to answer. "We're cooking rabbits."

Kanda saw the very moment Lavi turned pale. He couldn't help being amused, lowering his head down and pursing his lips to hide his little smile. But he scowled the instant he remembered how Lavi left him so suddenly the day before. He should at least pretend to stay angry, though he got over it quickly. His duplicate key was now in his bag. He still didn't know how to give it to the guy.

"R-Rabbits?" Lavi asked in disbelief with a mix of horror.

Lavi slowly fixed his eyes on the counters and sighed in relief. The rabbits were probably still in the walk-in coolers in the pantry. He wouldn't be able to handle seeing a dead rabbit without preparing his heart and soul. Sighing, he watched as his two partners for the day take out the kitchenware. The students had to draw lots to see what they would cook. Kanda was the one to draw, and had accidentally chosen a classic recipe—rabbit with mustard sauce.

He knew it was coming when Kanda ordered him to get the rabbits from the chillers. His blue eyes had a menacing light in it, as if to intentionally torment Lavi. Kanda knew he had a soft heart for animals, especially rabbits. Maybe he was in a bad mood because Lavi left his house so early the other day. But it seemed unlikely since Kanda wasn't at all happy whenever he came barging in. All Lavi knew was he was not willing to go to that dark, cold, walk-in chiller alone carrying dead, skinless rabbits.

"Do I really have to? Mickey should do it. Right, Mickey?" Lavi spun around to see no sign of Mickaël. "Huh? Where'd that guy go?"

"You're wasting time," Kanda spat out without looking at him. "Can you just get the goddamn rabbits?"

Lavi had no choice but to go, unwilling to annoy the shorter man further. Minutes later he came back with no rabbits.

"I can't find it," Lavi said lazily.

Kanda groaned with the rolling of his eyes. "Useless piece of—"

He walked with heavy, angry steps with Lavi to the chillers and crossed his arms right next to a table where a tray of dead rabbits slept. "You were saying?"

"I thought they were chicken," Lavi said truthfully. When Kanda gestured him to come closer, he did, and was horrified to see two whole rabbits, skinless and pink with their eyes creepily still intact, their cute little legs now slimy and extending from their short bodies. Lavi stared at them as if he had witnessed a murder scene. He breathed out, largely disturbed, "Holy mother of Christ."

"Don't be a wuss." Kanda got the tray and violently shoved it into Lavi's hands.

"Oh god," Lavi muttered, his voice cracking as if he was about to puke. He looked away from the tray of pink muscles as he extended his arms away from himself. "Fucking terrible."

"They're just rabbits, I don't see you getting bothered at cutting up chicken."

"That's 'cause I didn't have chicken for pets when I was young."

On the way back to their workplace, Lavi still held the tray as if it held the most horrifying thing in the world. He took the chance to tell Kanda his extra credit went well and he received a pretty nice grade. Kanda gave him an acknowledging remark. The hallway made his voice echo when he spoke. "We Americans aren't really into eating rabbits. Why eat rabbits when you can eat chicken?"

Kanda didn't hesitate to respond with a monotone voice. "It's more flavorful and meatier than chicken. I like it."

It was scary how he could say that with a straight face. Back at the kitchen counters, Kanda bravely transferred the rabbits with his bare hands onto a chopping board, Lavi watching him. Mickaël promised to make the rabbit stock after Kanda was done cutting it up.

"I hate cooking rabbits. Makes me feel like I'm cooking my cat, Lancelot," Mickaël commented, looking at the pink bodies of the two rabbits with obvious disgust. Lavi took a good look once more and realized the rabbits do resemble the bodies of cats, minus the elongated snout and lack of a longer tail. "They're hard to cut. Have this... weird anatomy I can't figure out no matter how many times I cook them."

"I can't believe you French eat these poor things." Lavi exhaled nervously. "I had a pet rabbit once. I remembered crying when it died."

"You know..." Kanda spoke as he shuffled through the drawers of utensils. "You remind me of rabbits."

Curious, Lavi's ears perked. Mickaël watched them in amusement. "Really? Why? Because they're cute and fluffy and you love them but never admits it?"

"No," he replied sternly and made eye contact with Lavi. The moment he noticed Kanda grabbing a cleaver, he knew what would happen next. Along with a loud 'thump', Kanda mercilessly guillotined the rabbit, not straying his gaze off of Lavi as he did so. "Because every time I see them I want to chop their heads off."

Lavi had to swallow his saliva before speaking, "That's...not very nice." He looked at the rabbit's chopped head and cringed.

"Lavi, why don't you cut Lavi?"

Confused, he asked, "Huh? Whaddaya mean?"

Kanda's eyes pointed at the second rabbit with its head still attached. "Oh, I named the rabbits Lavi," he said innocently as he severed another rabbit head. "You know, since they remind me of you."

Lavi felt all kinds of creepy. "I'm... oddly flattered." Kanda seemed to be ten times more violent today.

"I chopped the head off of this one for you." Kanda slid the board with the second rabbit on it towards Lavi, who was now next to him. "Now cut the rest of Lavi."

"You're doing this on purpose."

"So, what if I am?"

"You can be so cruel sometimes," Lavi commented as Mickaël handed him a heavy chef's knife, which was slightly smaller than the Kanda's cleaver. It was as if his other partner was in on Kanda's bouts of inhumanity when he flashed him a grin.

"Listen," Kanda commanded. Lavi liked it whenever Kanda taught him some culinary fundamentals, but this was one thing he didn't want to learn, and sadly the only thing Kanda was willing to teach. He had just recently learned how to cut a whole chicken, but he didn't expect learning how to cut up a whole rabbit. It was a completely different feeling.

The young student chef with a streak of sadism lectured, breaking his thoughts, "Rabbits don't have much joints to cut through unlike chicken..."

He continued to speak as he skillfully slashed the rabbits into small pieces—first was the forelegs, then he detached the hindquarters and slid a knife between the ribs until the knife stopped at the backbone. He did this until his chopping board reduced to one head, two forelegs, the front piece, and the saddle, which consisted of the two back legs and the back.

"Can you do it?"

Lavi was forced to watch, feeling as if he was watching an Asian gore movie up close. "I can probably do half of that, yeah."

"Sorry, lil' bunny," Lavi said, his hand holding the knife shaking. "Boss says so." Nervous hands held onto the slimy pink skin. When he knifed the forelegs off, it felt kind of wrong. There were thin layers of muscle, no joints. It was so squishy and soft it made him feel a little queasy.

By and by, Lavi had successfully, but not perfectly, subdued the rabbits into parts, Mickaël having to correct some of his wrong cuts. At that stage, the rabbits looked less than rabbits and more like poultry. Lavi was more than relieved. But the fact that he just cut up a rabbit wouldn't leave his conscience alone.

"This is just _heartbreaking_," Kanda heard the troubled redhead said, shaking his head. He knew it would affect Lavi greatly. He inwardly smiled in triumph.

"I'll make the broth now," Mickaël said, putting into a bowl the rabbits' heads, forelegs, ribcages, and also some chopped bones. "I'll leave you two _tourtereaux_ alone."

"Shut up, Célestin," Kanda hissed angrily as he blushed. The other party, Lavi, didn't get it. Mickaël put it off as a joke, unaware that they really had that kind of relationship.

As Kanda was about to gather all the knives to be washed in the sink, a boning knife hidden under a cleaver caught his index finger off guard and cut it. He flinched at the sudden sting.

"Yu, you're bleeding!" Lavi cried out, grabbing his wrist carefully.

"Shut up, you idiot. It doesn't hurt," the wounded said, pulling his wrist free. He tried washing the blood off with running water, but it kept on flowing out.

If he hadn't assumed that Lavi would simply put a plaster around his bleeding finger, he wouldn't have let the redhead take his finger so easily for him to suggestively lick the blood off. Kanda recoiled in distaste and embarrassment. He hit Lavi on the shoulder with his other, unscathed hand that it made him stagger backward.

"You—!" Kanda glared with his most sinister eyes, reflexively hiding his bleeding finger.

"That's for making me cut the rabbit."

"Try and do that again and your head will be the next thing I'll fucking cut off!" Kanda threatened with a very sharp French knife point blank at Lavi's Adam's apple, looking around to see if anyone saw Lavi's lewd act. They were lucky everyone was busy preparing their rabbit meals.

"I can't promise you that." Lavi smirked and licked his upper lip, tasting metal. Kanda groaned angrily before stabbing Lavi's sleeve onto the counter, trapping him.

"Cut your own finger then, you little dipshit."

"H-Holy shit!" It occurred to him that if perchance Kanda missed by an inch, his arm would've been sliced. His heart thumped one big wallop. "That's gonna leave a mark," he added, referring to the slashed counter.

"I don't care. Get away from me." Kanda, with an unseen distressed face, stormed off to where the class hid the first-aid kit. He couldn't bear to let anyone knew about them.

After Lavi pulled out the knife trapping him, he followed Kanda and kept harassing his beloved; apologizing half-heartedly, trying to braid his hair, pinching his arms, and calling him. He was like a puppy, minus the cute and multiply the annoying.

Trying his very best to ignore Lavi, the other man went ahead and seasoned the chunks of game with the usual salt and pepper, cautiously not using his hand with the cut finger. Browning the rabbit with butter on a sauté pan, Kanda altered the fire to medium heat. "Get a skewer, shithead."

"Would it kill you to say please instead of shithead?"

"Yes. Especially if I'm talking to one."

The one with green eyes laughed it off, adding a comment about how mean he was, and went ahead to get a spit. The aromatic mixture of the butter and rabbit being cooked had already woven into the air when Lavi handed him a stainless skewer.

"It smells nice," he said, hating to admit that the once adorable animal actually had this savory scent when cooked. "Do you just touch it to know if it's done? Like chicken?" he asked, remembering the time when they made _coq au vin_ at Kanda's place.

"It's harder, since rabbit is already firm even when raw." Lavi scooted closer, but Kanda pushed him away with an elbow attack on the redhead's ribs. "I just stick a small hole with a skewer, when the juice that comes out is pink, it's still a little raw." Kanda performed what he had said on the saddle area, as the juices from the rabbit poured out in pink. "The liquid should be clear, no color. So this one needs more cooking."

After a few minutes, Lavi was the one to transfer the cooked rabbits onto a platter while Kanda replaced the used sauté pan with a clean one plus about two tablespoons of fresh butter. It took seconds for him to chop the shallots, then stirred them in the butter until they were as transparent as jellyfish.

By then, Mickaël was already done with the broth and looked at Kanda for the signal. The moment he nodded, the French poured a quarter of a liter of rabbit broth onto the pan, letting out a hissing sound and a cloud of smoke. Kanda mixed in some white wine, again, never bothering to measure it.

"Hey shitface, skim off the fat," Kanda said before walking away to get a carton of heavy cream.

"Jeez, again with the shitface? Try saying please for once." Lavi shrugged. He obeyed Kanda's instructions and used a wide ladle to catch the foam that was floating on top of the simmering sauce. It wasn't hard work, but he got tired of it in a matter of seconds.

The brunet came back and added in a cup of heavy cream. Five minutes after, he took the pan away from the fire and whipped in the Dijon-style mustard, then sprinkled some salt and pepper. Lavi got four plates ready as Mickaël put a leg and half a saddle on each ceramic. As the finale, Kanda carefully poured the light, creamy sauce on the rabbit parts, being as equal on portions as possible.

Lavi was eager to taste, but it was time for the grading before he could pinch off some game. He helped assemble the plate for the chef's tasting, even suggesting to pair the lapin with some wine. Kanda thought it wasn't a bad idea and poured a 2008 Limoux AOC into a beautiful wine glass.

"_C'est bien_," Chef Julien remarked after one bite. When he drank the wine next, he added with a satisfied exhale, "Ah, _bien mieux_!"

The three saw him open and write in his grade book and said their last names while sustaining the last syllables, "Célestin... _et_ Kanda. _Et vous_?"

"Bookman."

"Ah, yes, sorry, sorry," Chef Julien apologized kindly. He was by the far the nicest chef Lavi had ever met in this university. "You are Lavi, like _la vie_, _oui_? Where are you from?"

It was an unexpected question, he fumbled for answers, "Phoenix. No, actually, I grew up in Phoenix, but I moved to Miami, then to a whole other places, then New York."

"You are American, then?"

"I guess so."

"I see," the chef nodded and smiled with his mouth closed. He looked at the three of them and praised them, "_Bon travail_."

The tall half-German, half-French chef flashed them a kind, satisfied smile, and moved on to the next group. Lavi wasted no time and took a bite from his own plated rabbit with mustard.

"Shit, this is so good," Lavi cursed as he helped himself with the smooth, soft rabbit meat and creamy mustard sauce and then gulped down some merlot-based red wine. It was a wholly different experience from chicken. The meat was, in a sense, a lot gamier, more vigorous, and more luscious.

"Mmmm," Mickey agreed, nodding, chewing. It was so good that it made him speak in his native tongue. "_Nous avons bien travaillé aujourd'hui_!"

Suddenly, Lavi felt his phone vibrating in his pockets. His body froze, his chewing stopped. He slowly brought it up. It was the same caller as yesterday. A sulking feeling overcame him like waves. It kept vibrating, but he didn't have the guts to answer it. Finally, the phone froze just as he did. The world around him muted and his gaze found Kanda.

Lavi glanced at Kanda who was talking with Mickey while he ate. He swallowed. The call reminded that he needed to tell Kanda something he should've said earlier.

"Y-Yu," Lavi called out his attention. "I have to go back."

Blinking, Kanda said, "Back home? Sure, go ahead."

"No." Kanda captured Lavi's grievous face. "_Back_. I have to go _back_."

Kanda's chest fluttered nervously at his unpromising tone. What did he mean by _back_? Go back to home? Or worse, go back to America? He just needed to ask. He was nervous, but he just needed to. "Where?"

"History."

His tongue had dried out when he was about to reply and let out a small sigh instead. He was relieved, yes, but not completely. Kanda didn't know what to say, really. It was a lie if he said it didn't bother him. Why would it even bother him? It was just Lavi.

_Just_ Lavi.

The remnants of the mustard sauce that lingered in his mouth turned drastically bitter for some unknown reason. He turned around, his back adorned with his ponytail facing Lavi. "Good. No one will be pestering me anymore."

The redhead managed a fake laugh, his usual voice lowering in pitch and enthusiasm. "Hah. I guess you're right."

If Lavi had seen the pained expression Kanda was hiding, he would've chosen very different words to say.

_The next day, Lavi didn't show up in the food lab. _And also the next day, then the next, until three days had passed. When Kanda went to the café, Lavi was either resting in the lounge or busy serving customers. They had a few, short chats, but that was it. Lavi liked long, funny conversations. But he didn't bother talking to Kanda up to that point. And it creeped Kanda the fuck out. On the Friday of that week, Kanda barged into the employee lounge, just to see Lavi busy reading thick, heavy books. His waiter uniform crumpled as he sat on the floor and used the sofa as his table instead.

Lavi's head snapped up. Surprised, the redhead cried out, "Yu!" Closing the book he was holding, he focused his attention to the person by the door. "What are ya doin' here?"

Kanda closed his mouth before he could say anything embarrassing. He went right over to the sofa and flopped down with arms crossed. He lied, "My seat was taken."

"Shit, sorry, that's my fault." For a second there, Lavi thought Kanda willingly went up just to be with him. "So, do ya need anything?"

Kanda needed to come up with something, so he took out a black cord from his bag and replied, "I need to charge my phone." He plugged it in, even though his smartphone's wide screen flashed brightly with a "90%" still on the top bar.

"You want some tea or somethin'?"

It was strange Lavi didn't bother to guess what he wanted. Lavi was about to stand up but Kanda stopped him. "No. Don't bother."

"Not even coffee?"

Kanda shook his head. It became uncomfortably silent after that. Lavi kept reading and Kanda watched intensely as his phone was being overcharged. He wanted to ask him a lot of things, like why he was reading so much, why he was absent for days, and why he decided to shift back to History. He fought with himself, wondering if he was capable of starting the conversation this time. How should he even start? He breathed in and his lips parted to speak—

"Hey, Yu, look at this."

The one of the sofa exhaled hurriedly. Lavi beat him to it. "W-What?"

"Come closer," Lavi said and showed him a page he found by chance. By that time, Kanda was already beside him on the floor. The white pages had an image of a stunning Japanese shrine, with all the red pillars and the washed out spring green roof and gold ornaments decorating it. "Do you what this is?"

"It's…" Kanda knew the answer and paused, narrowing his eyes at Lavi's direction. "It's the Kanda Shrine in Tokyo."

"Oh, you know."

"I have the same name."

"It fits you, your names I mean," Lavi said with a breathy laugh. "You're both lovely."

For the first time, Kanda didn't have the urge to hit him, or glare at him, or badmouth him. He stayed soundless and still. He didn't turn red at his cheesy comment, he didn't freeze in place either. He just looked into Lavi's eyes and asked, "Why are you like this?"

"Like what?" Lavi drawled, a bit surprised.

"You're…" Kanda trailed off on purpose. "Never mind." Still on the floor, he shifted his position so his back faced Lavi.

"Like what?" Lavi repeated, but more sternly.

"Strange."

"Strange?"

Lavi froze in place, a little hurt that Kanda didn't speak after that. Lavi exhaled shakily and wrapped his arms around Kanda from behind. It was sudden, but careful.

"What're you…" Kanda protested when his embrace grew tighter to the point of hurting. He could feel Lavi's dishevelled hair tickle the back of his neck and his forehead pressing against his spine. His arms loosened a bit. Lavi felt… warm and sincere.

They stayed like that for a while until Lavi spoke.

"Sleep over," Lavi mumbled tiredly, basking in Kanda's heat.

"Huh? Sleep over?"

"At my place."

Eyes wide, Kanda felt his face heat up. "Wha… but…." He couldn't choose appropriate words. Candidly, he wasn't entirely sure what to say. Besides, Lavi seemed like the type to wake him up at three in the morning just to ask why blue cheese is called blue when it's not entirely blue. The young man being squeezed tried to squirm out of the embrace, but Lavi's arms locked him in place.

"I just…" Lavi stopped as someone started knocking on the door. Both of them broke away in reflex. Kanda was half-thankful there was an interruption. Another few minutes of Lavi's embrace would make his heart burst out.

When Lavi stood up to open the door, he saw the last person he wanted to see. As if Lavi had seen a ghost, his grandfather stood in front of him with an indescribable expression. Kanda was just as surprised.

"G-Gramps! I thought… I thought you're in Bordeaux?" Lavi let him in. Kanda sat on the sofa, not exactly knowing what to do. He politely greeted him instead with one nod of his head. "You didn't even tell me you were comin'."

"If I told you I knew you'd avoid me."

His grandfather was short and appeared even more so next to a six-foot tall Lavi. The voice that last spoke was croaky and cross.

"Sorry, but can I talk to Lavi privately for a while?" Bookman looked at Kanda apologetically. Lavi was frightened, even Kanda thought it was obvious. There was this urgency in the elder man's tone, and so he made his cue to leave the two alone, excusing himself. Though he felt a kind of nervousness deep down, he didn't want to pry and went down the narrow stairwell until he got to the kitchen.

As he walked, he wondered why Lavi's grandfather suddenly decided to visit. Then, he noticed Lavi's familiar black jacket hanging on some hook on the wall, along with several other garments of the staff. Sighing, Kanda took the opportunity to do what he had wanted to from the very beginning. He slipped in his house key on the jacket's pockets. That was one thing less to worry about for the mean time. Just as he was to leave the kitchen, he realized he had forgotten his phone upstairs at the lounge. Maybe dropping in wouldn't be so bad. He just hoped he wouldn't be interrupting a serious talk between the two.

He made way to the lounge entrance but stopped in front of the door just as he heard a loud, angry voice of an old man. He knew it was rude to eavesdrop, but it was so tempting Kanda didn't move an inch.

"You think this is a game, boy?" Kanda heard from the other side of the door. "If I never had called the university, I wouldn't have found out you shifted out of your course! You didn't even bother to tell me!"

Kanda never heard a word from Lavi as his relative kept on talking. "And culinary arts? I didn't leave you here to play with knives."

"It's not like that. I had a reason."

"Then whatever the reason, you better start forgetting it." If it was possible, Kanda literally felt his heart drop at the next few words. "We're leaving. I thought letting you fend for yourself will get that recklessness out of you. I want you to finish the semester, _in History_. After tha—"

There was a sound as if Lavi threw something at the ground. "You can't do that! I don't want to leave! I… I—!"

"You'll go back to America after the semester ends. That's final."

Unable to stand still any longer, Kanda went down to the kitchen with a heavy heart. He kept on denying why his chest pounded painfully. Unconsciously he knew the cause. Why would it bother him? Wasn't it just great that Lavi was leaving? The more he thought about it, the more his heart tried to rip his chest open.

Because in all honesty—and as much as he despised and loathed and just _hated_ to admit it—he didn't want Lavi to leave. He didn't want that stupid, thoughtless, condescending guy to leave. Just thinking about it made his head ache. And he wasn't sure why, but his heartache gradually began to turn into anger.

It angered him.

Because he didn't expect to fall in love with the same stupid, thoughtless, condescending guy called Lavi.

* * *

**A/N: BOOMSHAKALAKA DAT ENDING. Weeee, finished it at last. Typing on iPad so lots of typos. Gonna fix it tomorrow morning. Hope you lovely devils like it! **** It's pretty short I think. I'll be re-doing the first few chapters since my writing changed somewhat since then. Do read and review! :)  
**

**I'll be posting on ao3/archiveofourown, too. I love that it has an html option. **

**Follow me there in ao3 and in tumblr! :) username's dahliadenoire. I changed it again, sorry. **

**Review if you don't like rabbits being slaughtered!**


	8. Pot-au-Feu

_**Les Rêves des Amoureux Sont Comme le Bon Vin**_

* * *

**Recipe Eight**

**August**

_**"Pot-au-Feu"**_

* * *

_**Ingredients:**_

_9 pints beef stock_

_1 tsp black peppercorns_

_2 kg beef; shanks, marrowbone_

_3 chopped leeks_

_3 carrots, cut in half_

_4 celery stalks_

_2 onions, cut in half_

_bouquet garni_

_salt, to taste_

* * *

_It was during the course of an August summer when Kanda began to ignore Lavi's calls_. The phone rang, but no one ever answered. It may had been one, or maybe two weeks, Lavi didn't know. He didn't know when or why Kanda was ignoring his calls. And it killed him.

After officially going back to his original History program, their relationship began to grow apart. He shouldn't be that surprised. Aside from the pressure of catching up to modules and lectures in History, having to ruminate about Kanda had put such a strain on him, both heart and mind, that it made him unable to concentrate wholly on his studies. Two weeks and they haven't talked, not personally, not even by phone. There was really no one to blame other than their contradicting schedules. Kanda had morning classes while Lavi's started at noon—the time when Kanda would usually be dismissed. They couldn't meet up at mornings since his shifts were transferred to an early schedule. Lavi had taken a liking to the word "star-crossed" to describe them.

"Answer, godammit," Lavi cursed at his phone. He redialed Kanda's number, then it rang and rang, yet the person he wanted to be with didn't answer. He sent texts at almost every hour at an amazing rate, but never received any reply. When he tried going to his house, he wasn't there. The frustrated redhead was on the verge of throwing his iPhone out of spite, but remembered that he probably had to work his ass off an entire month before getting a new phone.

He just wanted to hear Kanda's voice. That would be enough to fuel him.

Outside, the scorching sun gave his skin an unpleasant feeling. He made sure to avoid long-sleeves and jackets since it made him sweat too much. Lavi got out of the campus after finishing his last lecture before summer break; only if he had a summer break. He was met with an empty street—no people, no cars, just the warm, seasonal breeze.

Lavi liked summers in Paris. It was the only time when Parisians were a minority in Paris. Occasionally there were tourists (mostly German and Italian, thank goodness) in the city, whether they were inside _boulangeries_ or just reveled in the unusual quietness, the quantity wasn't as large as the other months. Tourists generally flocked to the shorelines and harbors in France, like Nice or Saint Malo. Lavi noticed the lines in the Métro and shops were almost non-existent; shops and restaurants would open late and close early. August meant having to go out of the city and go _en vacances_ and leaving the capital to the tourists, but what Lavi liked the most during August was the fact that everything seemed to get cheaper.

He tried to call Kanda again, but the results were the same. He assumed it was already Kanda's summer break, yet he still wasn't home early. With intention of maintaining a slow pace, Lavi walked toward the café. He still had work and he thought that probably getting himself busy would make him forget about Kanda for a while.

The bell rang when he slid the door open. At the back, he finished dressing and started working. He worked and worked. He served tables more diligently than before. He moved fast, reacted quickly, and made no mistakes. Yet after all that he couldn't stop thinking about Kanda. The last time they met, they were on good terms. He couldn't remember any reason for him to get mad, or hate him. And that was what bothered him the most. He couldn't come up with a reason why Kanda wouldn't want to see him. The possibility of his beloved student chef hating him wasn't high, and that was the only thing he was very sure of.

"_Bonjour_."

The voice of a girl interrupted his chain of thoughts. Lavi was thankful; any more stressful contemplating would cause a mental (and emotional) breakdown. "Hey."

"You've been working hard," Lenalee commented, hanging her apron, getting ready for her break.

Lavi admitted, "It stops me from thinking too much."

"Hm. Funny. I don't see you as the thinking type of guy." Lavi passed the girl an interested look. "You're more of… an act-first-think-later type."

"That's the thing." Lavi sighed, rubbing the side of his temples as if to magically push his migraine away. Somehow Lenalee's magical, soothing voice wasn't working. "I don't usually think so much."

The lounge was as spacious as before, but it was warmer and the strong sunlight coming from the windows made it brighter. Lenalee relaxed herself on the sofa. The redhead took a seat on a matching armchair across her. Amethyst eyes watched Lavi kneading his temples, trying to guess what his reaction would be if she mentioned that certain someone. "I haven't seen Kanda in a while."

As expected, Lavi reacted. He flinched and his kneading stopped.

"Do you have an idea?"

"Idea?"

"I mean, where he is, maybe, or, right now…" He fumbled for words. The topic was difficult to deal with. He used to be so good at lying. "I doubt he takes summer classes. His grades are pretty high."

"Isn't he taking summer courses in Le Cordon Bleu? I thought Kanda told you already. I'm shocked, really. You can get him to talk about anything."

Lavi couldn't feel any more dejected. Kanda didn't even bother telling him. His desire to see him got stronger, so he asked, "Where is that? How can I get there?"

"Going to visit him?" The girl paused to think. "If you take the train, it's probably near Vaugirard? It's in the 15th. I'm not sure. I've only been there once."

Hearing the unfamiliar station, Lavi moaned. "I should probably memorize the Métro."

"It's possible if it's you." A soft laugh came out from the girl. "Now that you mention it, do _you_ have summer classes?"

"Yeah," Lavi breathed out, almost like a sigh. "Shitty, I know. I shifted back and missed a lot of modules. I can catch up to some courses this summer, but the scheds are fucked up. I go home at, like, seven, at earliest. Classes start at around two."

"Two?" Lenalee echoed. "That's usually the time Kanda shows up in here. No wonder you guys don't meet."

"I'd call it star-crossed. Ya know? Romeo and Juliet."

"I honestly don't know how to describe your relationship, weird... or romantic."

"It's a mixture of both."

The next day, Lavi decided to wait for Kanda outside Le Cordon Bleu immediately after work. Just as Lenalee mentioned, it was a walking distance from a Métro station. Lavi could've just rode his Vespa, but guessed that the chances of getting lost was higher. Some people liked to say it was a good thing to get lost in Paris. Lavi begged to differ.

The building of the culinary institute of Le Cordon Bleu wasn't very hard to find. It was in the middle of a street cascaded by beige and cream-colored buildings, making it stand out with its blue windows sills and signs. For some reason, the building itself gave off this sprightly and saturated feeling, giving an image that the area bordering the place was black and white.

Lavi tried to see through the glass window to take a peek. Instead of the interior, he found himself looking at his own reflection—tired and sweaty under a black V-neck shirt and jeans. He wondered why he wore black since his shirt was basically absorbing the intolerable heat from the sun. Just then, the door by his right opened and a few people came out wearing baggy blue-piped chef uniforms, going over to their cars while some headed to the end of the street. Lavi watched them, waiting until he saw Kanda.

Wearing his usual University of Paris XIV food lab uniform, Kanda walked out from the door, looking at Lavi with big, surprised eyes that put the blue in Le Cordon Bleu to shame.

"Mornin'," the man who waited for thirty minutes greeted, waving his hand.

Kanda could tell Lavi was a little off at that moment, based on his incorrect greeting. Or maybe he did it on purpose? He was always so hard to understand. It was hard to believe he fell in love with such a guy. "It's two in the afternoon."

"Ah—" Lavi opened his mouth and froze, realizing his silly mistake. "My bad."

"You came all the way here to say good morning?" The air was a little different. He didn't know two weeks apart would make them so indifferent.

"Nah, I just... miss you, is all," Lavi babbled all of a sudden. By then, the people that came out from the building had already left, giving the two the whole street to themselves. Lavi added with a gradually emotional tone, "I couldn't contact you lately. You weren't answering my calls too. I tried visiting your place, I kept knocking, but you weren't there."

The one in the chef uniform creased his eyebrows in suspicion. Didn't Lavi have a duplicate key? He could've just barged in easily. Unless he hadn't notice it yet. He would've been overjoyed if he had already found out Kanda snuck a key in his jacket.

The student chef couldn't come up with anything to say when he was the one who deliberately dodged Lavi like a gunshot. He used to be so cheery and lively, but standing in front of him, Lavi looked so miserable, almost to the point of angry. "Lavi…"

"It's been weeks since we've last talked. Was it something I said? Are you avoiding me?" Lavi tried his best not to yell. He didn't want to raise his voice, especially not to Kanda. He tried not to appear too clingy. That was two weeks. Two weeks void of communication. Even a middle-aged wife would be mad.

"My phone... broke." It was a terrible, terrible lie. Kanda hated lying, but he needed to give Lavi some closure. "The… screen. It's not responding… when I tap on it. Must be when I overcharged it at the café. The repair's too expensive."

Lavi's apologetic face made Kanda even feel more guilt-ridden. "Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn't know. I shouldn't have lashed out on you like that. Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have been worried."

Kanda breathed in an air of courage. "Our schedules don't match. I didn't know how to tell you." If Lavi wasn't so dense, he'd notice the bitterness in Kanda's tone. He was so bitter he could taste it in his own mouth. Besides the fact that he shifted back, Lavi didn't tell him anything about leaving the Paris. He didn't mention the things he talked about with his grandfather. After his grandfather left that day, Kanda asked him what they talked about, but Lavi just responded with a casual "it's nothin' important". It was like he was going to leave him without notice.

And it scared him.

It scared the hell out of him.

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Kanda practically begged. If it was possible, he was feeling guilty and resentful at the same time. He felt cheated, but he felt like he cheated too.

"So—Okay," He was on the verge of saying another sorry. "Uh, well, now that we're together. Why don't we get some chocolate ice cream? On the way here I saw a Jeff de Bruges, I've always wanted to try it out and—"

"I can't," Kanda declined. He looked down on the gray pavements. "Don't you have summer classes?"

"Figures." Lavi's disappointed gaze pierced through him and smiled faintly at him. "You never really did want to hang out with me."

The statement boggled his mind. "It's not _that_… It's just…" he hesitated to speak, but continued anyway since Lavi waited. "Isn't it because of me that you lagged behind your program? You should stop messing around..."

"Get a new phone."

He spoke so suddenly, Kanda wasn't ready to reply coherently. "Huh?"

"So I can call you. And tell you when we'll meet again."

Kanda thought hard. His phone had distinguishing scratches noticeable enough for Lavi to remember with that inhuman memory of his. If he saw the same exact phone, he'd surely be suspicious. He didn't want to be caught lying. But he certainly did not want to regain contact with Lavi. "I... can't buy a new one right now. My uncle won't be able to deposit money until October." He clenched his fist. Who knew lying could be so tiring? "I can't bother to spend too much."

Who was he kidding, Lavi would never believe that. Kanda never had a problem with money. But alas, the redhead's understanding heart never failed to astonish Kanda. "I guess even your uncle gets it rough sometimes, huh."

"Yeah," Kanda uttered, surprised that Lavi believed him. He looked covertly at his watch. "Aren't you going to be late? If you leave now you can still make it to your class."

Lavi felt like Kanda was trying to get rid of him, although it was true. "Uh, yeah. You going the same way?"

"I have a seminar here in an hour. Go on ahead."

He wanted to kiss him goodbye, but that would be a little out of place with their current standing. Heartbroken, Lavi just managed to say, "Alright. I'll... see you soon, then?"

Kanda bobbed his head once, just as heartbroken as Lavi was.

_The sun was even warmer the day after to the point where Kanda had to take off his double-breasted chef jacket to let his body breathe_. Lavi's calling and texting stopped, wrongly believing that Kanda did indeed broke his perfectly healthy Korean smartphone. He had never lied so much in one day. He kept fibbing, and questioned himself. It was because Lavi was leaving, even if he himself hadn't informed Kanda. He didn't want to talk to Lavi, or text him, or call him. Kanda thought, that maybe if he kept his distance, he wouldn't be so affected even after he was gone.

Getting his senses back to the surroundings, Kanda observed that Le Café Gris looked like a ghost town. Instead of the usual full house, there were only three tables occupied, and one of them was himself.

Carefully folding his white jacket into his bag, his eyes wandered off to a table with a mother, alongside her two children. The woman was drinking a cup of coffee, ignoring her sons fight over the last chocolate croissant.

It reminded him of his childhood friend, Alma. He had the same disposition as Lavi—friendly, cheerful, annoying. Their friendship abruptly ended when he left Paris. After that he had never heard from him again. It was depressing for a small child like Kanda who never had any friends, being new to the city and all. His only friend leaving and his parents abandoning him became his worst trauma. He never realized it, but he remembered his uncle mentioning about an abandoned child syndrome. Kanda believed Tiedoll was only exaggerating. But if it wasn't for his current guardian, he would've been dragged into an orphanage.

That time when he overheard Lavi's conversation with his grandfather, he felt a nostalgic chill in his spine, and it was not the good kind of nostalgia. Lavi was someone he never expected to get along with. Because Paris was just a phase for him, when it was Kanda's whole life. Lavi wouldn't stay long. Kanda knew that, yet he still went on. He should've bitten him to death when Lavi kissed him. He should've punched him in the face whenever he would sit down next to him after his shift. He should've said he hated the coffee or tea Lavi brought even though he guessed it spot on. He should've stopped letting their relationship bloom from weeds to wild lavenders.

He should've stopped liking him.

Why was it so hard to hate the guy anyway? He wished and regretted, but it would be a lie to force himself to hate Lavi. Because, _fuck_ _everything_—Kanda loved his kiss, he loved their conversations, he loved every drink Lavi would offer him. He loved every single day Lavi catered their relationship until it bloomed and bloomed. Kanda loved their relationship, no matter how strange it was. There was nothing to call it. Labels were unnecessary, and he loved that fact, too.

But most importantly, he loved Lavi.

Kanda denied it every single time. But right now, he was certain. He just wasn't sure if the other was feeling the same way. It was obvious from the very beginning. Lavi's affections for him was just something to pass the time during his stay. It was a pretty obvious part of his personality. The fact that he grew up in America scared him. Maybe he wanted to try a relationship with a guy out of curiosity. Maybe he wanted to try cooking just for the heck of it. Lavi was that kind of fellow: impulsive, reckless, undetermined. Kanda had to suffer because he grew too fond of the guy. Thinking about him leaving, getting bored of playing with him, was just too depressing.

"Kanda?" the sudden high-pitched voice made Kanda jolt from his seat, making him sit upright. His soliloquy ceased and he felt himself shaking. He looked up to the girl who spoke. "You were making this weird face."

"Was it obvious?" Kanda asked, sighing. He looked down on the empty table with half-open lids.

"You're unusually honest today. Want to order something?" Lenalee asked, trying to look at his exhausted eyes. "It's so strange to say that to you nowadays, since Lavi would always go straight to you." Kanda didn't realize he stopped breathing after hearing Lavi's name. "You guys still meet? Lavi told me your class hours contradict."

Kanda looked down at his hands that were trying their best not to quiver. "We don't."

"That's too bad. I'm sure you'll find some time to get together," Lenalee vowed with confidence. "I'm guessing you want some tea?"

"Coffee, actually..." the one seated paused. "...with whiskey."

_Later that night, Lavi came to the cafe even when he wasn't supposed to work._ By that time, Kanda was long gone. Allen noticed him instantly when he sat down on Kanda's usual spot.

"You _do_ know you don't have work today, right?" Allen chimed in, a little worried. Lavi looked exhausted, yet he still wore a smile.

"Actually, I'm just going to ask Reever to give me more hours of work. Night shifts, maybe."

Allen's pearl eyes widened. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"Jesus, no. I'm saving up for something."

Reever wasn't in his office when Lavi came in to check, and later found out he had gone out for a while. As he waited, he relaxed for a bit on the comfy upholstered chair on the employee lounge.

"Here," Allen said, approaching Lavi as he handed him a cup of scented tea.

Lavi recognized the smell all too well. It had the same fragrance as Kanda's kitchen. "Lavender tea?"

"It helps with fatigue."

He looked at the cup in his hands, the brownish yellow liquid tempting to burn his tongue. "Do I look tired?"

"Ever since you and that bastard don't meet, yes. Honestly, how can you keep up with that guy?"

"Everyone asks me the same question." Lavi laughed, blowing on his cup. But quite frankly, Lavi hated the fact that he could keep up with Kanda. He hated how they could go weeks without talking, and when they finally did, it was like nothing happened. Kanda picked his hopes up for a few minutes, then dropped them at the last second

"I think it's good."

The older man raised one brow. "What's good?"

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Cliché," Lavi teased, quaffing some tea. "My heart doesn't need to grow any more fonder."

Reever was more than willing to give Lavi extra hours, even Saturdays and Sundays. Since most of the staff were on vacation, the cafe really needed some extra help. Lenalee and her brother would be off-duty in for a week, which meant having Lavi fill up for her duties.

Lavi was counting the days he and Kanda were apart. He thought about Allen's words. Maybe if he kept some distance, maybe if he worked hard enough, he would regain his composure and then everything would go back to the way it was before. But maybe it wouldn't, maybe it would backfire and hurt like shit. It worried him.

And so, his working streak started. Lavi's first shift began at seven in the morning and ended at one for his summer classes at two. His evening shift would then start at eight until midnight, or sometimes only until ten, depending on the number of customers. It was a tiring schedule. He was working his ass off while the rest of the world was at the beach, enjoying the summer.

There was one night when the kitchen only had one chef, and the front only had two waiters. The influx of customers was hard to guess, and suddenly the cafe was overflowing with guests.

"The night before my vacation, and this happens!" Lenalee complained, frustrated. She was leaving for Cotê d'Azur the very next day. Her slim arms held six menus for customers. "What is this anyway? This morning we only had two customers!"

"There was an art exhibition nearby. People get hungry after these things. We're the only ones open." Everyone was thankful Lavi was there. It would be a disaster if he hadn't asked for night shifts. "Yo, can you handle waiting tables? I'll help out at the back."

"Come back soon. There're more tourists out there than usual. I hate dealing with them."

The kitchen was in chaos when Lavi came in. The only cook there was Miranda Lotto, and she was just hired a week ago.

"Two orders of _pâté de campagne_, table three. Also, table six still doesn't have their potato… salad… thing I really don't know." Lavi said, changing aprons.

"_P-Pâté_? Is that... Is that a salad?" Her face was horrified which emphasized the bags under her eyes.

"No, it's that… meat loaf thing, right? There are made ones in the chiller, I think." The two of them had little experience in a high-end kitchen. Lavi only studied cookery for a few months while Miranda was recently hired. She wasn't even a chef. She was just a vegetable cook—an _assistant_ vegetable cook to make matters worse.

"I'll go get it! C-Can you peel these potatoes for me? Thanks!"

"W-Wait!" Miranda was already out of the kitchen when Lavi yelled. He clicked his tongue, and walked over to the woman's station. "She should really learn how to wear make-up."

Lavi wasn't insulting her. In fact, he actually thought she was pretty attractive if it weren't for those dark circles in her eyes. Unlike the calm and collected German tourists he had encountered, Miranda was a huge worrywart. She was clumsy and had ridiculously low self-efficacy. Her German accent was almost gone, as well, so Lavi assumed she had not been in her home country for quite a while.

Shifting his focus back to the potatoes, which seemed like they were looking at him as steam came out of their skins, Lavi tried to touch it, but burned his fingers instead. Lavi looked at his hands. They seemed rough, with tiny specks of skin peeling off. He wondered if Kanda's hands were as soft as usual. Despite having to cook more frequently, his hands remained beautiful.

"That's right…" Lavi whispered to himself. Kanda's hands. He remembered that one time when Kanda was peeling potatoes. He had a towel on his left hand and a paring knife on the other. He did what his memories told him and by the time Miranda was back with the _pâté, _all the potatoes were peeled.

"It's this one, yes?" Miranda asked him, holding a tray of _pâté._ It did, in fact, looked like meat loaf.

Lavi smiled at her to give her a boost. "Yeah, that's it. I'll go plate it."

At eleven, the café finally decided to close. Lavi looked at the once unspoiled kitchen. Dirty dishes piled up like the Torre di Pisa, counters sticky with grease and whatever ingredients they had used, and on the floor were skins of onions and bits and pieces of vegetables. He thought that if Kanda were here, he would be so pissed. Kanda never tolerated dirty stations. What would've been his reaction if he encountered such a dirty kitchen?

"Goodbye, Lavi. Thanks for all the help." Miranda Lotto bowed her head at him and smiled for the first time that day. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"No prob, see ya." Lavi waved a hand at the woman who exited by the back doors of the kitchen. He was left in the kitchen to clean up. Miranda had wanted to help, but Lavi figured she was too exhausted being the only cook in the kitchen. Being the gentleman that he was, he let Miranda leave early. He always had a soft spot for women.

The same had gone for Lenalee, who offered to help. But Lavi let her off the hook. She was leaving for the French Riviera in just a few hours and figured she needed a good night's sleep. And so, Lavi urged her on to leave him. He got a kiss on a cheek and a sincere thanks.

With a sigh rocketing from his dry lips, Lavi faced the decision he had made and started off by washing the dishes. He wanted to keep his mind off things by being busy. Hopefully, his plan of saving money would be fruitful. He had a plan. And he was certain that it would be worth all the hard work. He let out another long, tired sigh when he heard someone come in.

"If you keep sighing like that, you're letting happiness escape."

Lavi let his head turn to see who spoke with such a soft voice. "Komu—I mean, manager!" He waggled his hands to rid them of the bubbles. "What're you still doing here? Lenalee already left."

For someone who mentioned about happiness escaping, Komui exhaled loudly and scratched his head, his image that of a calm Chinese philosopher gone. "I still have those damn paperwork to finish."

"Good for you," Lavi said with sarcasm. He chuckled and then went back to work. It was hard to believe Komui was Lenalee's brother, and even resembled her; same hair color, same skin tone, and same eyes if he weren't wearing glasses. Unlike his sister, he was hardworking when they didn't need him to be. As much as Reever wanted to, there was no one who could fire him. He owned the place and bought the café when it was just an old, dilapidated townhouse and transformed it into a luxurious, cozy, Parisian coffee shop known in Saint-Germain-des-Prés.

"You want any help?" the manager asked, going over to where the cleaning materials were and grabbed a broom.

Lavi blocked his way and snatched the broom from Komui's hands. "No, really. You don't need to do this kind of stuff."

"This is nothing," Komui said with a nostalgic smile and snatched the broom back. "You should know that I was the only waiter, the only cook, and the only janitor when I first started this business."

"Whoa, seriously?" Lavi asked in disbelief. This lazy manager who rarely came to the café did all that?

"Of course." Komui nodded and began to sweep the floors. "I was nineteen. It doesn't look like it but I graduated young. Bachelor of Science in Electronic Engineering, but then again I first enrolled with Entrepreneurship as my major."

"So, you really are an evil genius." Lavi paused in thought and realized. "Wait, so why the café?"

"Hm…" Komui stopped and tapped his shoes, which Lavi thought looked expensive. "Where should I start? Well, I guess we should start when our parents died. We were kind of a rich family back in Shanghai, the money I inherited wasn't really enough, though."

"Oh. Sorry to hear that," Lavi said with sympathy. By then, he was half done with the dishes.

"Lenalee wanted to leave, to get away from the place, and I thought it might be a good idea to finish studying in Europe while we're at it. We moved here, started out in an apartment and stuff." Komui didn't look very sad, which made Lavi curious. "She wanted to have a new family. At first, I panicked and thought she wanted to get married early! And I was like, no way and told her boys have cooties and can kill her."

"Normal people say that to boys, not girls. And you gotta get rid of your sister complex. She's gonna get married sooner or later."

"You better shut your mouth, Bookman Jr. or I will fire you," Komui threatened with a scary tone, but only made Lavi laugh. "Anyway! She wanted a family, right? I guess I wanted it too. She needed someone to cherish and protect, even though she already has her dear brother, can you believe that?" Komui pouted and sniffed, pretending to cry.

"You bought her a café? Why not just buy a family of Barbies?" Lavi joked, even though he knew Komui was serious.

"Be-_cause_. I thought it would be nice to have a café. She can play and eat her favorite chocolate cake whenever she wanted. I didn't want her to work ever since back then, yet she's a waitress now. She's the only one happy to be working so hard."

"Stubborn, ain't she?" Lavi commented. He went on over across the room to wipe the counters clean. "What about Reever? When did he get in?"

"My first employee _was_ Reever, that damn aussie," the Chinese manager snorted with displeasure and crossed his arms. He stopped cleaning for a few seconds. "We knew each other in college and decided to help me. When we realized the café was a success, we hired a pro chef and got Jerry. It was funny… 'cause he just got fired from his previous job, but we took him in anyway because we needed an experienced chef. Before I knew it, our little family became larger and our café became more than just coffee and biscuits."

"So, how do you know my grandfather?" Lavi asked curiously.

"Mr. Bookman?" Komui sighed when he recalled the old man, but happily this time. He pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose. "I had a lot of debt during the first two years and he gave me a hand."

"That doesn't sound like him at all. He's a total cheapskate."

"Yeah, well, he was business partners with my parents, so I guess he tolerated me because of that. Without his help I wouldn't have such a successful coffee shop. Lenalee… cherishes this café and the folks here more than anything in the world." Komui smiled softly and observed the wide kitchen space, which was beginning to clean up a little, remembering when it was just a dusty old pantry with a cheap stove and oven. "Our family isn't only just the staff, though."

"Oh?"

"Remember Kanda's uncle? Froi Tiedoll? Just like Mr. Bookman, he helped us start out here in Paris and even paid the first down payment for this building. I even remember when Kanda first visited this place." Just when Lavi thought talking to Komui would let him forget Kanda for a few minutes, the man decided to mention him.

Lavi let out the same sigh he breathed out when Komui arrived. "Kanda, huh?"

The floors were clean and free of grime when Komui said with a soft laugh, "That kid, he may not look like it, but he has some serious abandonment issues."

Lavi watched Komui, highly interested. "Abandonment… issues? That's a first."

"His parents left him and his only friend left him, too. Took quite a toll on him."

"That's why he's always so hostile?"

"Tiedoll told me Kanda doesn't want to get attached to people, because he's scared they'd leave him." Lavi couldn't talk, somehow grasping the reason why Kanda acted so despicably towards him. It reminded him of his past self. The fact that he used to avoid any attachments—except he was the one doing the leaving.

"I'd never leave him," Lavi whispered, looking at the ground. He wasn't going to let his grandfather drag him away from a city he grew so fond of.

"Hm? You said something?"

"Uh, no, I… I said I should, maybe, leave soon," Lavi said nervously. He dried his pruned hands with his apron.

Komui clicked his tongue. "Yeah, it's getting late and you worked so hard today. I'll make Reever clean this mess up tomorrow morning before Lena and I leave."

Lavi heard him laugh. "Thanks, I'll be off now. Enjoy your summer vacay, manager."

"Thanks. Rest well!"

_The walk home was lonely as hell. _Lavi remembered what he said when they had that game in the bookstore, about how severe his bad luck was without Kanda. Who knew it could be so accurate? He was walking home because his Vespa died oh so suddenly and was in the middle of repairs. And when he decided to take the Métro, his ticket wouldn't even operate the turnstile. He bought the wrong ticket, apparently.

"What luck," Lavi murmured. Even the nights were hot and he was starting to sweat just by going up the stairs leaving the underground station of Ségur. With one step, he was back on Parisian streets. He looked up the impossibly pitch-black sky, the blue moon seemingly staring at him. He breathed out, referencing _Far From the Madding Crowd_ once more, "This must be how Bathsheba feels."

He turned to the corner, but not before noticing a flyer posted on one of the shops advocating the Paris-Plages, a summer event where the riverbanks of Seine were transformed into a beach complete with sand, ice cream and the like, specifically designed for people who couldn't get out of the city because of different reasons. "It ends on the 10th. It'd be great to spend my birthday there." He sighed and looked up at the sky again. "I wish I could invite Yu."

By the time he got home, it was almost midnight, yet he couldn't sleep. Somehow his bed wasn't so comfortable and his room became hot and stuffy. Lavi plummeted onto the couch not far from his actual bed and tried to sleep there, but again, no luck.

"I miss him so much, damn it." He covered his face with folded arms and sighed for the hundredth time that day. He wondered how much happiness was left in his system after sighing so much. "Maybe I should go to his house…" Lavi shook the thoughts off, thinking it was a bad idea. "Ahhh… He should've at least given me a spare key. Fuck. Who am I kidding? He doesn't care enough to give me one, anyway."

The only way to shoo Kanda out of his thoughts was to stay occupied—keep himself busy. He wandered around his small apartment with hands on his hips. Should he read a book? Play video games on his PC? As he kept pacing and pacing Lavi caught a glimpse of Kanda's handmade cookbook lolling alone on his coffee table. He grabbed hold of it, and skimmed it out of oddity. It might be possible Lavi had already memorized Kanda's personal notes on each page. After turning the pages slowly, he encountered a page with a recipe for beef stew.

"_Pot au… Feu_?" Lavi tried to say it correctly. He read on, his fingers dashing over words he was reading. "It says here that the main ingredients are beef… carrots, wow, this is my kind of stew."

He didn't know what came over him when he decided to cook pot-au-feu in the middle of the night, but there was this buzzing in the back of his mind that initiated him. He seldom cooked at home and relied on fast food and take-outs, believing it was too time-consuming for a busy young man living alone to cook for himself.

"Okay, you can do this, it's just stew," He murmured to himself. It was just his luck that he went grocery shopping the other day, so ingredients weren't a problem. Lavi smacked Kanda's recipe book on the countertop, the dim lighting leering over its open pages.

The nervous History major read aloud, "Boil stock in large pot, add meat and bones, skim off scu—what the hell, the instructions are _way_ too vague!"

Nevertheless, Lavi grabbed a pot and placed it on the stove. Even though the recipe called for nine pints of beef stock, Lavi just went ahead and mixed his two-liter carton of beef stock and another two liter of water. Afterwards, he threw in the usual herbs and whatever beef parts he had in the fridge, ignoring the fact that the dish needed beef shank. "Yu says it's boiling when it lets out steam and big ass bubbles." As he waited for the stock and meat to boil, he went and cut the onions first, then the leeks and celery stalks into huge chunks. Lavi made sure to chop four carrots instead of the recipe's preferred three. He threw in the cut vegetables next. Since he didn't have the necessary herbs to make a _bouquet garni_, he just let himself loose and sprinkled parsley and dried thyme in the pot. The bubbles started popping out together with steam which Lavi noticed right away and yelled out in triumph, "Whoa! It's really boiling!"

His momentary feat was short-lived. He couldn't help but feel lonely and pathetic, to tell the truth. His plan of cooking backfired and just made him remember Kanda even more. "Ahhh _shit_, I want to see him so bad…!" Lavi groaned, rubbing his face dramatically as he stared at the pot, where ugly scum and fat were starting to dart out from the bubbles, forgetting that he needed to skim them off. He slapped himself and focused on the dish. He looked at the recipe book again and finally remembered to get rid of the foamy scum.

The pot-au-feu was starting to smell fantastic after an hour. After finding out he needed to let it boil for another hour, Lavi slumped down on his couch with the recipe book in his hands. The aroma wafting throughout his apartment made him feel like he was in French countryside. He breathed out loudly, slightly contented. He examined the beef stew recipe again and glided his fingers on the page, reading the directions silently.

"Cook until meat is tender…" His fingers touched the picture of a pot-au-feu on the top of the page. "Hm?" Having failed to notice it beforehand, Lavi spotted a piece of paper with a quote, which appeared to be cut off from a magazine. Lavi spoke as he read, "No one who cooks, cooks alone." He felt his breath stop. "Even at her most solitary, a cook in the kitchen is surrounded by generations of cooks past, the advice and menus of cooks present, the wisdom of… cookbook writers." He stopped before mentioning the one who came up with such a quote, "Laurie… Colwin."

The tired redhead smiled, then his smile turned gradually into a small fit of soft laughter. "It's like Yu glued this thing on purpose." His loneliness cooped up inside of him vanished on the spur of the moment. "Sure, I'll just imagine Bobby Flay cooking beef stew with an idiot like me… or better yet, Giada De Laurentiis! Damn, she's pretty hot." But even after thinking of celebrity chefs, he still imagined Kanda next to him instead.

Next to the quote, there were comments in Japanese written with a red Sharpie. Lavi was curious, it was the only one in Japanese. Before he could try to decipher it with the best of his abilities in Asian languages, his iPhone timer set to ring in an hour jingled furiously.

"Here we go," Lavi said as he rushed to the kitchen. He looked at the pot one last time with its cover slightly ajar as to let steam escape. When he took the lid off, the cooped up fragrance burst out into the room, almost making Lavi faint from its aromatic splendor. The smell was somehow provincial and meaty, and all the while sweet. "Jesus _Christ_, this smells _awesome_." He excitedly went and poked the meat with a knife. It was cooked perfectly and the vegetables along with it looked delectable.

Lavi carried the heavy pot onto the counter beside the sink and scooped up the chunks of beef and vegetables onto a plastic casserole, not forgetting to save the stock to be made into a soup. He whiffed the air again and scrutinized the finished product. "Shit. It looks better than I expected." In terms of presentation, he'd probably get a 3 out of 5. Lavi knew that as he grinned at the crudely chopped meat and carrots and the dark brown soup underneath it. He took a spoon and tasted the liquids first. It tasted _great_.

"There's something missing," Lavi commented and pondered. He clapped his hands once. "Wine! This shit needs wine." He looked at the clock and was shocked to see it was almost three in the morning. "The booze shop downstairs is open 24/7. Huh, guess I'll check it out."

He tried going out the door but felt a sudden chill. Lavi shivered as he spoke quietly, "It's pretty cold during dawn." The redhead put in his favorite black jacket and smelled it. He hadn't worn and washed it for weeks now. Lavi didn't seem to mind and shrugged it off.

Del Rey Wine and Spirits was a modest wine store that was right beside Lavi's apartment building. As if to intentionally plague him, Lavi went inside the shop to hear a Bobby Vinton version of _Blue Moon _playing on the radio, bringing back his previous misery.

He mentally slapped himself. There was no use sulking over Kanda. He was sure they would come into terms soon. He just knew it. Lavi marched further inside and leaned on the counter. He asked the shopkeeper with a boyish grin, "What's your cheapest red wine?"

The man opposite him, mid-50s but possessed an exceptional kind aura, smiled back at Lavi. He spoke with a very heavy French accent, "What about this, _monsieur_?" He put out a black bottle of Pinot Noir with 2009 written on the bright yellow label. "Michel Sarrazin Pinot Noir Bourgogne 2009. It is on sale for only €14.99."

Lavi wasn't a wine connoisseur. He was merely a waiter with an above average salary, so he just took whatever was available at a low cost. He didn't care what year it was made, which winery made it, as long as it was red. And cheap. "Perfect! I'll take it, so, wait, that's about… fifteen euros…" He muttered as he fumbled his jacket pockets for cash.

Instead of money, his hands felt cold metal.

"Huh?" It wasn't a coin and was weirdly shaped. He slowly took his hands out and opened his folded hands, only to see a key. It was new, obviously because it was unbelievably shiny—an unscathed silver. Lavi examined it more keenly. He didn't remember possessing that certain key and was, frankly, the first time he saw it.

Even the shopkeeper was intrigued and croaked, "What is it, _monsieur?"_

He narrowed his eye. "Quintefeuille…" Lavi mentioned the words on the metal. In that instant, streaks of electricity zapped through his brain. He felt like bursting into tears then and there. "This is…!"

Quintefeuille—the name of Kanda's condominium.

It was a spare key. Lavi knew that just by looking at it. It was way too new to be the original. And as far as he knew, Kanda only had one key. His heart, slowly but surely, began to race. "S-Shit… Did he...?"

Lavi balled his hands into a fist so tightly the key inside pierced painfully through the skin. His tired legs gave in and he bended his knees on the spot, making the old man by the cashier worry. From the start, he never really had a strong heart, and so Lavi pushed his face into his knees, confused whether he wanted to cry out of happiness or sorrow or anger. But he cried, still.

_Blue Moon_ stopped playing but his loneliness remained.

* * *

**A/N: Bam! Angst out of nowhere. It'd be no fun without some angst, amirite? As I have currently no classes, I had spare time to write this. Took me a week to finish it though. Some notes: University of Paris is only up to 13 (XIII) so I wrote a fictional one and added another. Also, pot-au-feu has many variations. This is the standard one, usually cooked as family meals.**

**Anyway, I've had a lot of new stories in my mind and mainly, I want to get it out of my system. A noir fic (40s detective and murder stuff y'know? My personal favorite genre actually), fantasy plot a la Skyrim, vampires (lol cliché but it's kinda different. **_**Kinda**_**.), zombie apocalypse, idk. It'd be nice to know what you guys prefer out of these. I will still be updating this tho. It's getting real fun to write.**

**I just want to thank everyone! I get pumped up when I read your anon messages in tumblr and reviews here. You guys keep saying this story is "fresh" and "different" but really I just want to send subliminal messages about cooking and write about my real chef instructors. Srsly tho, thank you :) Feel free to criticize, ask questions and all that jazz!**

**Stay beautiful, you lovely devils.**


	9. Omelette Lyonnaise

_**Les Rêves des Amoureux Sont Comme le Bon Vin**_

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**Recipe Nine**

**September**

_**"Omelette Lyonnaise"**_

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_**Ingredients:**_

_3 large red onions_

_3 tablespoons butter_

_10 large eggs_

_1/4 cup heavy cream_

_red wine vinegar_

_salt and pepper_

* * *

A dark September sky was threatened by an ominous thunder, stirring Lavi out of his sleep. When he opened his eye, the classroom was dimmer, and despite the fact that it was only three in the afternoon, the sun was shielded entirely by the gloomy clouds. Rain was coming, Lavi fathomed, finally sitting up straight. His gaze focused back on the professor who was speaking in French, but when Lavi looked down on his book, it was completely in English. He groaned, completely frustrated. When he was in Kanda's program he never had worries in understanding lectures. The students from Culinary Arts were diverse in terms of nationality and race, so the chefs were required to interact in a universally-spoken language, which was English. Lectures were also seldom. But back in History, everything was different. Lectures were all there ever was. Students were French to the bone. To make everything worse, essays and research work were frequent, even though it was just additional classes.

"_Le Renaissance a inauguré une nouvelle ère dans la recherche scientifique et intellectuelle et_—" Lavi stopped listening at that point. The only word he understood was Renaissance and he wasn't even aware that they were already on that topic. Normally, Lavi would be interested in the subject, but studying history at home and learning it at school was an entirely different experience.

The theater-like seats that had a capability to seat a hundred was only occupied by twenty people, most of them students who were catching up or had failed a subject, all of which scattered throughout the spacious classroom, unconcerned about making friends or socializing. Lavi was the opposite of unfriendly. He tried making friends, but whenever he tried talking to them, it was obvious they were uninterested.

Another thunderous roar from the outside was heard, loud enough for the instructor to pause on his ramblings in surprise. Lavi heard him clear his throat and continued. Then, there was rain. Light and misty, the raindrops barely made a sound, only leaving its mark as fog on the windows. It was a good thing Lavi left his Vespa at home. He would be devastated if his scooter was to breakdown again after recovering from a repair.

The instructor in front became a vague existence as soon as Kanda slipped into his mind. Yu Kanda. Him. Again. He wasn't sure why his heart ached. How long has it been since they last met? Or seen other? No matter how much courage Lavi mustered, he didn't have the guts to barge into his house like his personality suggested. He had Kanda's key. It was basically a sign of invitation. But Lavi never used it. The only time he was available to knock on his doors was past midnight and he didn't want to disturb the young man from his beauty sleep. There was one time when he had an early dismissal and came to Kanda's place. Lavi, forever unlucky, picked a time when Kanda wasn't home and was met with an empty condo unit. It was like there was this field that kept separating them. They were total opposites, but they weren't sticking to each other like magnets for some reason.

Lavi was starting to believe that Kanda was avoiding him on purpose. It wasn't a force field that detached them. Perhaps it was just Kanda. Was he finally fed up with him, even though they were starting to get very close? Lavi mentally banged his head on the wall. He hoped that wasn't the case.

"_Monsieur? Êtes-vous à l'écoute de moi?"_

When the professor called out to him, Lavi realized he actually banged his head on his table out of frustration. He apologized and the instructor went on again with the lecture. He was scolded again when his phone rang loudly. His grandfather called him in the middle of class, where in Lavi excused himself just to hear the old man bicker about him going back to America.

At around six, Lavi was dismissed. Relieved that his Western Civilization classes were shoved out of the way, he stretched his arms high above his head and exhaled loudly. The streets of Paris were swamped with what some would barely even call a downpour. Even so, he walked to the café as an alternative to riding a bus. Although unobvious, Lavi liked moist weather. He had to move a lot to keep warm. He had to walk more, he had to sway his arms more. He was someone who needed to move constantly; a man of movement. He was rarely ever still, there would always be that tapping foot and drumming fingers in there somewhere.

The boulevard where the café was built upon was consumed with a mysterious mist by the time Lavi arrived. Before rushing upstairs to get changed, he detected a large figure of a man on Kanda's usual table. He grew even more curious when his shift started. The man, wearing a pastel dress shirt, was sitting quietly until a deep voice called out when Lavi passed by, "_Monsieur, s'il vous plait. _Can I order?_"_

Lavi wasn't in the mood to act too welcoming; tired and all. To appear professional, Lavi asked the mysterious man in a rather aloof way, unsmiling, "Yes?"

When they made eye contact, Lavi didn't expect to sense a certain aura of kindness from a man with an intimidating thick frame. He was French, Lavi was certain, judging from the fellow's prolific pastel brown hair and brown eyes that were quite common in France.

Eyes behind circular glasses gleamed with curiosity, looking at Lavi as he said with no breaths in between, "Extra hot decaf latte macchiato with a pump of vanilla, soy, preferably, non-fat, no sugar, extra layer of foam and cinnamon on top… _s'il vous plait._"

It was fast and had a heavy tinge of French accent. Normal people wouldn't be able to understand it. There was a one-second pause. Lavi blinked a few times before repeating it, his reserved expression unchanging, "Extra hot decaf latte macchiato, pump of vanilla, soy, non-fat, no sugar, extra layer of foam, cinnamon on top. Anything else?"

Another one-second pause. "_Mais je rêve!_" The customer exclaimed, nodding his head in both amazement and disbelief. The stout man complimented with an accent, "I've met waiters from around the world but you are the only one who got it right."

Unsure of what to say, Lavi just said, his professionalism fading second by second, "Um, thanks?"

"You have eidetic memory?" the man with hair like desert sand asked and smiled at him, as if he knew something Lavi didn't.

As modestly as possible, he answered, "Y-Yes. I guess you could say that."

What surprised the tall waiter was the customer's next reply. The Frenchman said very familiarly together with a laugh, "You must be Lavi, _oui_? You were a… little different from what I've heard from the staff."

"Wha...? How did you…?" In that moment, Lavi's formality vanished.

"They told me you were lazy and, uh, how do you say this… ah, yes, _mischievous_. One person even told me you were an idiot. But it doesn't seem like that at all! You seem very smart." The man continued to joke and chuckle heartily. Lavi was getting pissed off. Not at the kind-looking man, but whoever was making him sound bad to someone who seemed like a VIP in the café, based on how he talked about the staff so casually.

"Oh, so you know Komui and Reever? Sir…?" Lavi trailed off, as he was still uninformed of the man's name.

"Froi," he continued with a bob of his head. "Nice to meet you. I hear Yu is quite fond of you."

"Oh, nice to mee—wait, _Yu_?" Lavi stopped with a higher brow. He knew no one other than himself who ever called Kanda by his first name, except maybe his uncle Tiedo—_oh, shit_.

A sudden wave of realization stunned him. He needed to be sure first. As far as Lavi's knowledge about Tiedoll goes; he was a broad ol' Frenchman, who wore round spectacles, and possessed a deep, calming voice, and that he was a prominent artist in Europe…

The man was everything in his checklist. Lavi nervously glanced at the man's table and saw a huge sketchpad. _Shit_. Growing panic flooded Lavi as he had never felt so stupid in his life. It was really him. Froi Tiedoll was right in front of him, sitting, smiling, existing. He felt his body stiffen. Damn it all to kingdom come, the man he was talking to was Kanda's uncle, foster parent, guardian—he was basically Kanda's father! Lavi couldn't speak for seconds and Tiedoll grew worried at his quiet, mental panic. Lavi was unsure of what to do. It felt like meeting in-laws for the first time.

"S-Sorry!" Lavi's first impulse was to apologize. Apologize for what? For unchastening his son? Lavi needed to be sure Tiedoll wouldn't find out. For not smiling when he took his order? It didn't matter. He felt the need to ask for forgiveness and sharply bowed his head.

Slightly confused, Tiedoll asked and chuckled, "Sorry for what?"

"I-I-I… I don't know. It's just… I didn't expect to meet you… all of a sudden," Lavi said, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't get why he was so nervous. He hadn't seen Tiedoll before and now he was right in front of him, beaming with benevolence. It was embarrassing how he was so panicky. He was acting too suspicious, that he wouldn't be surprised if Tiedoll already found out he and Kanda had some kind of odd relationship.

A relationship that was going down the drain, by the way.

"How strange." Lavi raised his eyebrows. Did the man figure it out? "You're calling him by his first name?"

The young man swallowed. "Yeah?"

"And he's not mad about it?"

"It took a while before he gave up threatening to kill me."

Tiedoll let out a soft laugh and Lavi found himself smiling as reflex. "That sounds like him. Nonetheless, that makes you a special snowflake."

Lavi denied with a sad smile. "I doubt it. He hates me a lot."

"Oh, _non_, no, no. Yu never hates anyone." The middle-aged man saw Lavi's incredulous glance. "He doesn't accept someone's… _cordialité_, or let's say, _affection_, just so he could toss it away," He said with a hand gesture.

"Then, why—!"

He stopped, his feelings almost bursting at the seams. The said young man hated virtually everything. Lavi remained skeptical, but was torn about who to believe. Tiedoll knew Kanda better than anyone else—better than Kanda himself. Komui kept saying that, Lenalee, too, but not once had he heard it from Kanda.

Lavi cleared his expression of hurt and looked back again at the middle-aged, bearded man in front of him with a weak, terrible smile. He cleared his throat, struggling to eliminate a lump blocking it. "Anyhow, you must be thirsty. Do you want anything else with your drink?"

Tiedoll went back to the previous subject. He assured Lavi, eyes closed, "Believe me. That boy seems like he hates the whole world, but he can never hate someone. Especially someone like you."

Lavi appreciated the comforting words, though he didn't know how much the man knew. But somehow, Tiedoll's words were too hard to believe.

_The sky was a bit scarier than usual on the following day._ Kanda's first reaction was to curse the weather, stretching his neck to observe the dimming heavens. Tiedoll's visit was unexpected. He would usually call in advance and preferred being fetched from the airport or train station, exclaiming how it was very family-like. Kanda, having just finished a plating course in Le Cordon Bleu, planned on meeting his uncle next. And as much as he didn't want to, since he was tired and the weather was perfect for a nice _soupe au pistou_ with lovely yellow summer squashes and butternut, along with fresh cranberry beans and red potatoes, Kanda still accepted Tiedoll's invitation for a dinner in the 7th—at a restaurant called 58 Tour Eiffel. Tiedoll had a soft spot for the 7th arrondisement. Kanda avoided it at all cost, largely because Lavi lived there.

With three more hours left for his family dinner, Kanda decided to go to the nearest Monoprix to buy ingredients for his supposed _soupe au pistou_ but ended up stopping his tracks in front of Jeff de Bruges. Kanda despised it. That shop reminded him of Lavi ever since he mentioned it during their last conversation. And he despised the building, too. With that green roof canopy that reminded him of Lavi's distasteful choice of bandanas and that dark brown exterior that matched Lavi's obnoxious preference to dark-colored parkas and jackets. And he despised the chocolates displayed in red boxes and red ribbons because it matched Lavi's stupid unnatural red hair and his stupid red scarves—

And then Kanda realized he was being unfair, abhorring an innocent Jeff de Bruges.

Closing his eyes for a second and breathing out to mentally calm himself, he turned to the street and fetched a taxi, losing his enthusiasm to shop ingredients for his vegetable soup with basil and garlic paste.

Kanda arrived at 58 Tour Eiffel one hour early. But his uncle was also an hour early so there wasn't any problem. The sun was setting when a beautiful hostess seated them right next to the window. Since the restaurant was located on the observation deck of the Eiffel Tower, hence its name, the view consisted of the spectacular gardens of Trocadéro and the Palais de Chaillot.

"Aren't you getting sick of the Eiffel Tower?" Kanda asked as soon as they sat down, judging Tiedoll's reservation. They were practically seated on the best table, the one with the best view and the best lighting.

"You get to see it every day, son," the elder man replied, looking over at the set menu. "I don't anymore."

"It makes you sound like a tourist."

"Getting excited over Tour Eiffel?"

"Yeah."

"Why, who doesn't?"

"I don't." Kanda also grabbed the set menu laid in front of him. "It's just an ugly, metal tower."

Tiedoll chuckled as a response. "You're sitting on that ugly, metal tower right now."

It was seven when it started to rain. Different from the other day's misty shower, that day's rain was a very genuine kind of rain, complete with thunder and lightning. Their view was clouded with fog and darkness and their windows covered in droplets. Kanda was already full when the second course came in, which consisted of a roasted guinea fowl fillet. He wanted to skip dessert and go ahead with the wine.

"I went to the café yesterday," Tiedoll said, taking a bite of his peppered artichokes.

"Gris?" He hadn't been to the café for days now, making sure he wouldn't interact with Lavi.

"_Oui_. I haven't been there for a long time. There were some new faces, a nice addition to the family I suppose."

"Hm." Kanda didn't say anything more. His guardian must've met Lavi. And he didn't want to go through that subject right now.

"I've met your friend. The one dear Lenalee said you were close with."

Kanda tried to pathetically change the subject. "C-Can I order the wine next? I'm… too full for dessert."

Tiedoll noticed the attempt. "Why, sure, son. Go on ahead."

And so he did. Soon afterwards, a bottle of Château Haut-Selve was presented at their table.

"So, about your friend, what was his name again?"

"He's not my friend." Kanda gulped down the glass of red wine in one go.

What annoyed Kanda was his father figure's maternal instinct, which was conceivably better than a real mother's. "What's wrong, son?" Tiedoll asked kindly.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Oh, I know when something's bugging you."

"There's nothing _wrong_," Kanda insisted, although his pouring of his third glass of wine contradicted his claim.

"It's about this boy, isn't it?" It was direct hit and Tiedoll noticed Kanda's crucial change of demeanour.

"What is it with you? Did that idiot say anything to you? I said it's nothing."

"Then, tell me, why _that idiot_ had the same expression you are showing right now?"

Kanda had stopped breathing by then. His wine glass was empty again. He looked at his uncle's sincere eyes that reminded him of the color of mushroom soup. "I can never win against you."

"And you never will." Tiedoll smiled gently. "Tell me about your friend."

"He's leaving," Kanda said almost immediately the second Tiedoll finished his sentence. He repeated with a softer voice, "He's leaving."

At that instant, that critical moment, Tiedoll somehow understood. Kanda wasn't the best when it comes to parting. "Leaving Paris?"

"His grandfather wants him to go back to America." His uncle hadn't had a single drop from the red wine while Kanda poured himself another glass.

"Have you talked with him about it?" Tiedoll ordered them another bottle since Kanda single-handedly emptied one. He glimpsed at the young man he considered as his son, pale face filled with the blues and what seemed like a pang of guilt.

"N-No, I…" Kanda stuttered, trying to catch his breath. "It's been a month… since we last talked. I'm detaching myself." Kanda helped himself with the newly ordered wine.

"Find the right time. I'm sure there will be."

Kanda sighed dejectedly. "I must be drunk, telling you all this."

"Nothing wrong with that, no?"

"I'm going home," Kanda decided, and stood up so abruptly it made the chair screech.

Frantically, his uncle tried to stop him. "Oh, but Marie's coming in a few minutes! Aren't you going to wait for him?"

"Tell him I have a headache." It wasn't completely a lie. A headache was imminent, with all the wine he consumed. "Sorry, uncle, maybe next time."

Feeling bad about leaving his uncle like that, Kanda made his precarious way back down from the first floor of the tower. He despised his top uniform for having no pouches and instead shuffled through the pockets of his houndstooth pants, searching for taxi money as he headed for the lift down. Half-drunk and disheartened, Kanda bumped into a woman, causing them both to land on the floor. The woman forgave him as soon as he apologized, unintentionally glamouring her with his charm.

Paris was overwhelmed with strong winds plus rainfall, that Kanda still got wet even with an umbrella. Despite the rain, the foot of the tower was still crowded with tourists, further mystifying Kanda of the Eiffel's magnetism. He rubbed his face with his damp hands and cursed for letting himself drink too much wine. He wasn't drunk, but he started to get dizzy. As expected, there were no taxis in sight, since only tour buses ruled over the streets near the tower.

When Kanda walked over to a more civilized street for a taxi, he realized he couldn't find his keys. He hadn't noticed when he lost it, but it wasn't in his pockets like it usually was. He might've lost it after leaving the restaurant. There was a possibility that he even left it at Le Cordon Bleu.

"Goddamnit!" Kanda yelled in near panic in the middle of Elisée Reclus. This wasn't his lucky day; he lost his keys and it was fucking raining. Heavy rains like this were rare in his side of France. He sheltered himself from the downpour by running under a deep-set arched door of an apartment building. As he tried once again to search for his keys, it was of no use. It was nowhere to be found.

There was no way he could tell Tiedoll. Nope. It was too humiliating.

Kanda could only think of one person who had an extra key. And it was the one person he was trying to avoid all these weeks. He breathed out as loudly as the torrent. 'Find the right time' was what his uncle told him. Maybe it was the right time. Maybe fate intentionally made him lose his keys. Kanda never really believed in fate. But he let himself believe in it just this once.

It occurred to Kanda that he knew Lavi's address, he knew where it was, knew what it looked like, but he had never actually seen the inside. Even though Lavi gave him a spare key, he never had the audacity to use it. And so after that short, nerve-wrecking taxi ride where Kanda practiced his lines on what to say, he got off in front of Lavi's 19th century apartment in Avenue de Ségur, under the pouring rain, with nothing but an umbrella and a fast beating heart.

Quietly, he went inside. It was a silent, narrow lobby; dimly-litted and old-fashioned. The tiles beneath him were old, unpolished marble. On his left was a door, which he assumed was the office, and right across the entrance was a curved staircase heading up. An elevator wasn't present so he figured he should use the stairs. It was a tiring journey to the highest floor and when Kanda did arrive at the front door, he instantly froze.

"Please don't be here," Kanda whispered with a breath. He didn't want Lavi to be home, at the same time, he wanted him there. It was as if he was scared to see the other man after several weeks. Just like the rain, Lavi's love would pass by. He kept his distance all this time, but there he was in front of his apartment door. He knocked two times. No answer. Another two. Still no answer.

Just as Kanda was about to let out a relieved breath, a deep voice called out from behind him:

"Yu?"

Kanda couldn't manage to face him, frozen in his place. What would he say? He opened his mouth but closed it again. It was hard. Kanda could feel Lavi's gaze on him. Almost robotically, Kanda turned around to face the owner of the voice; hands trembling, heart pounding. He saw Lavi, soaked and surprised.

Holy thundering heavens. Lavi missed him. His bright blue eyes. His alabaster skin. His beautiful nightly hair. Lavi, just like the young man before him, froze in place. Their eyes met with an electrifying gaze that made all the anxiety and longing and love and everything come flooding back.

Looking away at the same time, Lavi pursed his lips, readjusting his left arm that was holding a bag of groceries, and stammered, "Y-Yu, you're all wet, you should get inside." He ushered Kanda by touching his back, to which he reacted by flinching. "You have my key. You should've gotten in without me."

Kanda finally managed to speak. "I'm… not that soaked. There's no need for me to get inside. I, just, I lost my k-keys." He stared down on the floor. "And, well, you have my spare."

"I do, but—" Worried, Lavi persisted, "No, get inside. You'll get a cold. I'll letcha borrow my clothes—"

"I told you it's…"

Kanda couldn't finish his sentence as it was too late, and that Lavi had already opened the door and ultimately pushed him in. At first it was dark, but then Lavi turned the lights on. Still, even with the lights, the room was dim. Kanda didn't expect anything luxurious. It was a room suited for a bachelor—small but heavily furnished. When his eyes adjusted, he was met with books—lots of it; scattered on the floor, piled up chaotically on shelves, and sitting casually on his couch. The soft earthy couch was at the center, facing a traditional television set. On the left was a desk, piled with books and papers, one could barely see the laptop hiding under. The bed was on the very back of the room, adjacent to curtained tall arched windows.

"I just need my—" Kanda was cut off when Lavi grabbed him by the shoulders and showed him to the bathroom. "Listen! I—"

"Y-You should take a bath! I'll get some clothes for you," Lavi offered with panic as he steered Kanda forcefully to his shower and closed the door tight, leaving a shocked Kanda inside his bathroom.

Now that Kanda wasn't getting in the way of his thinking, all he could think of was: shit, shit, shit, _shit, shit._ He had always wanted Kanda to see his place, but it was all too sudden. They weren't essentially on good terms with each other, so why now? What if he lost his keys? He could just stay in a hotel, or sleep over at his uncle's. Lavi then heard the shower turn on, in some way feeling a bit guilty for forcing Kanda into taking a shower with no heater.

"Gimme a break," Lavi whimpered. He neglected his paper bag of groceries on the couch, then went on over to pull his shirt over his head the quickest way possible and change into a clean one, since he was even more soaked than Kanda.

Lavi grabbed the paper bag to properly put them in the kitchen just east of his bed, only to drop them again on the floor when Kanda got out of the bathroom.

"C-Can I use this? It's clean, right?" Kanda asked about the burgundy bathrobe he was wearing, his face the same color as the fabric.

Lavi looked away. "Yeah, sure," he muttered, cheeks flushing. He couldn't tell Kanda it was a robe he was currently using, well, because, he only had one bathrobe. And it would be terribly awkward if he told him that.

Kanda breathed in before speaking, hopeful not to be interrupted again, "A-Anyway! I'll just get my key and lea—"

He was cut off yet again, not by Lavi, not by anyone, but by a power outage.

"A blackout?" Kanda heard Lavi say as he searched for his phone to at least light up the surroundings. "Sorry, stay still, this happens when the storm's too hard."

The rain could still be heard from the outside and may have grown more intense when Kanda attempted to approach Lavi through nothing but black, feeling naked with just a robe. "Where are you?"

"Oh, hey, found it." Lavi pressed the home button and his phone lit up, helping him see through things, allowing him to turn on a battery-powered lamp on his bedside table. Lavi turned around only to see Kanda looking back at him. Both of them jerked in surprise.

"M-My keys," Kanda murmured. He really couldn't handle to stay much longer. "And clothes."

Lavi smiled at him, even though Kanda couldn't see it. "You don't usually lose things."

"Stop stalling. I want to go home."

"You could just stay here."

Lavi heard the other sigh. "I don't want to stay here. I _can't_ stay here." Kanda thought he was safe from ever that familiar pain of separation, but this guy kept pestering him from day one up to now.

"What's wrong with staying overnight?"

"Because—" Then, a loud clamor of thunder disrupted him. The sudden flicker of lightning gleamed through the curtains and gave a passing light to the room. If it was possible, the apartment was even darker than before.

And then there it was, those eyes again. His blue eyes, this time, troubled and wide, looking at him like colored glass. Lavi found himself staring intently at the blackened wooden floor. "Sit down for a while," he said. "It's been weeks. Why don't we talk for a few minutes?"

Shaky and cold, Kanda cautiously sat on the bed which was the nearest place to sit down. "I don't intend to stay long. I shouldn't have even come."

"Came at the right time, actually."

Kanda blinked twice. "Right… time?" He repeated, recalling the same words from his uncle.

"I've been working extra shifts recently," Lavi started and knelt over to where he dropped the bag of groceries, just across Kanda. He took out a rectangular box. "It's not a Note II or anything. It's not even the next best thing, but…"

Kanda had wide eyes when he saw the black box. "Don't tell me…"

"You broke your phone. And I couldn't wait 'til you get a new one, so I bought you one myself." Lavi looked up and smiled at Kanda who couldn't even move an inch. "Sorry. It's not as big as the other. But at least I could call you now."

Lavi waited for a visible reaction. Kanda couldn't make sense of his feelings. Guilt flooded his whole being. He was breathing unevenly now. What should he say to Lavi, who had spent his pay check for something that didn't need replacing to begin with?

Kanda gripped the box in his hands tighter and shoved it back to Lavi. He tried to swallow his guilt down, but it remained there, in his throat. He lowered his head and muttered apologetically, "You deserve someone better."

"What's this all of a sudden?" Lavi asked, worried at Kanda's change of tone.

"My phone isn't broken," Kanda said hesitantly. "I never broke it. I lied."

Lavi was in absolute distraught, Kanda couldn't bear to watch his face shift into confusion. "Why?"

"I don't... I don't know." Kanda couldn't really answer properly. It was hard to tell what he felt, but he was sure about one thing: guilt so infinitely oppressive that he could hardly speak, fully aware how unfair he was to Lavi. He stood up, making the bed squeak. "That's why you deserve someone better, someone who doesn't stab your toe or punch you or lie to you…"

Lavi got to his feet. "Yu, I…"

"Sorry I bothered you. I need to borrow a coat so I can go home. Can you—"

Grabbing the young man's arm, Lavi requested weakly, "Don't go." He wanted nothing but to embrace the Kanda, but he couldn't. Not yet. He cried out, "I don't want better! I'm perfectly fine with you. And I don't think I could ever be fine with anyone but you!" His grip on the other's arm softened. "I know you have a good reason for lying, I know it."

Kanda felt his face heat up, his eyes bigger. Even after all that, Lavi could still say things like that. "I was pissed," he said truthfully. He didn't how Lavi managed to make him say it. He had that kind of charm. "But what's the point? It's all going to end anyway."

Lavi narrowed his eyes in disbelief. What was he saying? "W-What do you mean? Why are you angry? Did I do something? I—"

"I'm pissed because you're leaving and you're not telling me any shit about it!" He shut his eyes when he yelled out.

The redhead was struck speechless. He couldn't speak for a moment until he grasped the whole situation. "Where did you hear that from?"

Kanda kept his head low. "You were talking to your grandfather. Back at the café…"

"Shit, no, Yu, you don't—" Lavi panicked, he hadn't even realized. He was looking for words, too eager to explain. He seized both of Kanda's arms now. "No, _no_, it's not what you think! He _did_ want me to go back, but I talked to him. If I go back to History and pay rent by myself I could stay. And that was what I was doing." Lavi furrowed his brows pitifully. "I didn't want to leave. I wouldn't dare, because leaving Paris means leaving you."

"That's bullshit," Kanda uttered, soft as a whisper. Despite his choice of words, he believed in Lavi. He could hear his own heartbeat. It made him relieved, although he barely showed it.

Lavi let out a breathy laugh. "I didn't want to tell you. And even if I _am_ leaving, I'm going to take you with me," he managed to joke. "You don't know how wonderful you are, and how wonderful this city became because of you." The taller man tried to cup his cheeks and kiss him but earned a painful jab in the stomach. He bent down, churning in pain and griped, "What the hell was that for?!"

Lavi didn't know if Kanda was aware that his eyes resembled that of a kicked puppy, even though he was the one in pain. Kanda cried out, "You made me worry for nothing! You're an asshole! I will fucking boil you! And cut you! And—!"

The next thing he knew, the taller figure reached up and wrapped his arms around Kanda's torso, his hands around his waist. The other one didn't move, stunned, as Lavi clutched him closer, burrowing his face onto his shoulders, not leaving even the tiniest space between them. He could smell Kanda's scent; invitingly warm and dainty. He could smell the shampoo he used and the smell of clean fleece. To Lavi, it felt like it was the first time embracing him. He had wide shoulders, a tall figure, and unlike a girl, he wasn't as soft. But Lavi liked it. Locked in his arms, Kanda felt kind of fragile, like he would break if he held him too tightly, regardless of the fact that he was a young man just like himself. Kanda's pale arms wrapped around him, too, which surprised Lavi, having not used to him reciprocating, and so Lavi drew him again closer, this time to kiss his him.

Kanda's body, only wrapped in a wine-colored bathrobe, tingled, feeling terribly uncomfortable and embarrassed against Lavi. His lips were chapped and had hurt when Lavi pressed on it with his own. As much as Kanda wanted to respond, their teeth kept knocking onto each other. To make it more awkward than it already was, he bit Lavi's tongue by accident, earning a pained groan from him. Their kisses were lousy and embarrassing, but both of them forgave it, knowing that every gasp and contact was brimming with longing and pure love. Kanda couldn't get away from him, the man reaching up to his head and running his fingers through Kanda's damp hair. The one captive reached up to Lavi's neck, sticky from the rain.

"Yu," Lavi groaned in between tongues and kisses. Kanda used to dislike being called that. Something like calling him by his first name, it was only typical of him to get angry, but when it's him, when it's Lavi, somehow his name felt safe coming from his lips, like he protected it, like he loved every letter, every sound, like he truly loved the person who owned it. "You taste like wine."

Lavi ducked in and brought his mouth to Kanda's again, delving his tongue inside. Kanda reflexively ran his pale fingers through his red bed of hair without thinking. And he kept going and going, drinking up every last breath, and Kanda found it hard to suck in enough air. He pushed the man violently away by yanking his head to the opposite direction. "Let me breathe, goddammit!" He exclaimed, breathing ragged gasps.

The more assertive one alluringly licked his lips, apologizing, "Sorry." It was amusing how apprehensive Kanda was despite of everything, faltering and stepping back and closing his mouth when Lavi got in too deep. He found it cute. He couldn't explain why. Along with the noisy rain, they could hear each other's battling hearts as if it was the rain itself. They could feel it. Their bodies pressed together, hands dashing over necks and wet tresses so delicately. Their open lips hurriedly met over and over like there wasn't any more time in the world.

A flutter of nervousness hounded Lavi. He hesitated, briefly, before he murmured into the other's mouth, "I want to… to…" He couldn't complete his words and instead clutched the burgundy fabric within his fist, tugging it.

Kanda had a good reason to blush, because at the next second, Lavi kissed him harder and pushed him backward. When the backs of his knees hit the sides of the bed, he helplessly tumbled backward onto the soft mattress and bounced up and down until Lavi hovered over him, hands on either side of Kanda's head. The man beneath breathed heavily, lacking oxygen, Lavi barring his chances of ever gasping for air with his compelling kisses.

"Wait!" he cried out in surprise, nervous about what Lavi would do next, pushing his hands on the redhead's chest to serve as a barricade.

Closing his eyes and pressing his lips together, Lavi admitted candidly, "I don't know what I'm doing." The honesty surprised them both. "I don't want to hurt you or anything, I just… want, want to—ah, _shit_, fuck it." Instead of words, Lavi shut himself up and impatiently pressed his mouth over his. Kanda couldn't keep up, groaning, only to urge the one-eyed man to continue even further.

They parted hesitantly. "You're too used to this. It's pissing me off," Kanda was able to speak despite his breathlessness.

"Nah," Lavi denied with a husky laugh. He spoke, ardently with emotion, "I just want you so bad I don't think I can hold back."

Kanda was too out of it to be vaguely aware whether he harboured the same feelings. "Is that really it?" He asked. Honestly, he couldn't tell if he wanted Lavi. But there was never a single trace of repulsion. Not one.

"I'll stop if you want. Well, I'll _try_ to stop." Lavi nuzzled into his neck and held him closer. "You don't like it?"

Being embraced and touched so intimately by Lavi, Kanda's head spun. He couldn't tell. It was too hard to tell. Like a whimper, he murmured, "I… don't know. Stop asking me."

"You're making me nervous."

"Of what?" Kanda asked, although he was just as nervous, feeling the other man's weight on him.

"I guess… I don't know," Lavi answered, smiling, realizing he repeated Kanda's words. They couldn't think as well as they used to, their minds clouded with shreds of tension and emotions. "Am I forcing you?"

"You're not doing anything I don't want you to."

Then the both of them were almost unclothed, bare for them to see. It was inebriating. The more Lavi kissed and touched and felt him, the more he loved and wanted him. He was trying. They were trying to be perfect, but ended up being more imperfect, causing funny slip-ups and accidents every now and then. "Relax, please, relax…" Lavi would say, but Kanda would briefly curse at him and close his eyes and just went on with the flow, however it might turn out.

The room was becoming humid, their hands sweating whenever they caressed and touched and brushed mutually. Darkness surrounded them, nothing but the dim emergency lamp on one side of the room. There were momentary thunders and the incessant drumming of raindrops, and along with it were rustling of sheets, and short, erratic breaths. It was no common affair. It was something unusual, yet felt so perfectly natural. It was the two of them, together, arching, gasping, and touching, clumsily, tenderly, lovingly. Before they knew it, they had fallen deeply into an intimacy—an intimacy they would never be able to recover from.

The rain stopped, just as they stopped moving. Lavi collapsed on top of a broken-winded Kanda, having little intention of getting off, and wrapped his arms around him. Underneath him, the dark-haired man bonelessly draped his right arm on Lavi's back, as a response to the other's tender embrace. When Kanda complained, "Get off. You're heavy." Lavi quickly rolled to the side.

And after everything, after wading pools of affection, of love, of everything under the stars, Lavi ignored that they were bound motionless by sweat, weariness and the lingering humidity, and held this blue-eyed being with his arms. Lavi was on the brink of unconsciousness when Kanda, groggy and tired as he was, requested with a raspy voice, "Get me some clothes."

"Mhmm," Lavi groaned, forcing his eyes open and curling under the blankets. He tried to pull Kanda closer. "Jus' sleep naked."

"I don't like sleeping naked." Kanda stared at Lavi's sleeping face through the dimness. "Don't sleep, you idiot. Get me clothes." Lavi didn't answer. "It's your fault, you piece of shit. I'd get some myself, but I can't even move."

Lavi was struck with guilt all of a sudden. "Fine," he said groggily, sitting up and kicking the sheets off with his legs. He opened his mouth to speak, only to say something entirely unplanned, "You're lucky I'm in love with you."

There was this fleeting silence before both of them realized what Lavi had said. What was it that made the whole 'I love you' thing so hard to say? He pressed his lips tightly. But he never regretted saying it. It was the truth. Nothing more. And when he glanced over at Kanda for his reaction, Lavi was surprised at how calm his expression was. He was like saying 'I know'. Because he knew it. He knew Lavi loved him. That was why it didn't came out as a surprise.

Kanda didn't particularly expected to fall in love. Lavi wasn't even the type he would fall for. On the contrary, Lavi was easily attracted, but he had never loved anyone as much as he loved Kanda.

Lavi put on the pants he had discarded earlier sans underwear, standing up and walking to the closet. It was dark and the power was still out so he pulled out the first thing he touched. He gave Kanda a huge shirt and a pair of boxers.

"This isn't even yours," Kanda said when he clothes himself the shirt, which was way too big for him and was certainly was too big for Lavi as well.

Lavi hopped back into the bed, causing them to bounce a bit, and observed the said shirt and realized it was his red football sport shirt. "It's my Giants jersey," Lavi explained. "It's supposed to be big."

"Giants?" he repeated, not quite understanding what it meant.

"You know, football," Lavi answered, getting under the covers again. Both of them laid on their sides, facing each other.

Kanda thought for a while before saying, "There's no 'Giants' in football."

"I think you're talking about soccer."

"Well, aren't you?"

"It's _American_ football, NFL. New York Giants. Victor Cruz. Ring a bell?"

"You ought to call it 'handegg' instead of 'football'. They don't use their feet. They don't even use a ball."

"We call it 'pigskin' sometimes." Lavi's mouth twitched into a smile. "Soccer's not nearly as fun as football."

"I'm saying why call it football when they play mostly by hand."

The NFL fan laughed softly and rubbed his eyes. "They use their feet to run."

"Everyone uses their feet to run." Kanda, growing uninterested in the subject of sports, shifted on the bed and curled to the other direction, his back with a white 'Cruz' and '80' on it facing Lavi. The topless one found it an opportunity to wrap his arms around Kanda and brush his lips against the back of his neck.

Lavi noticed Kanda kept shifting and moving. Worried, he asked sincerely, feeling he might've been too harsh during their prior activity, "You alright?"

"I can't sleep."

Hesitant, Lavi timidly inquired, brows furrowed with guilt, "Does it hurt… somewhere?"

"N-No!" His face flushed at the question. "It's… too dark in here."

"Wait here."

Since the rain had stopped, Lavi figured it was the perfect time to show Kanda the pride of his apartment. Excitedly, he sat up and into a kneeling position. As his bed was directly next to the window, he hovered over Kanda and shoved the curtains away, giving them a modest, indirect view of the Eiffel Tower, all lit up beautifully with lights as bright as stars, as if it had never rained at all.

Kanda never appreciated the tower as something magnificent. Countless times he had seen it. On sunny days, rainy days, during Bastille, hell, he was on the tower just a few hours ago. What confused him was why he thought the tower he scorned looked so beautiful right at that moment. It wasn't merely a metallic tower, it served more like a beacon of light, that vital piece that put the 'light' in 'City of Lights', that shone over on the town he lived in, on the river he passed by on cloudy days, on the people who knew of its prominence.

"Christ, I can never get over this," Lavi said, sighing in awe. He now laid on his side and stared at the view. "Yu's probably sick of seeing it, huh?"

Kanda didn't speak. He didn't blink, watching how the lights sparkle and flicker like stars. A very faint smile wove at Kanda's mouth as he turned to the other side, opposite the view, to face a drowsy Lavi, and pressed his lips to his forehead.

Stiffening at the sudden gesture, Lavi smiled and closed his eyes, satisfied. It was Kanda's subtle way of saying 'I love you'. And it made him happier than anything else.

_The first thing Lavi felt when he woke up was his comfortable bed and the soft morning sunlight_. The muffled whirs of moving cars were the only sounds heard in the sun-drenched apartment. There were no more thuds of raindrops and thunder. It felt like summer again. Still unable to open his eye, Lavi noticed that his bed smelled like coconut oil, something they had used as lubricant, causing him to recall intimate memories of last night.

His eye opened wide, his cheeks flared with red, getting self-conscious at the abrupt recollection of things. Lavi raised his body and propped himself on his elbows, and when he gazed to his right, he saw Kanda curled up right next to him, slumbering soundly, blankets wrapping him like a sleeping bag.

"I could get used to this every morning," Lavi whispered in a soft, raspy voice. He sniffed and rubbed his nose, feeling an impending cold. Sitting on the side of the bed, he felt a chill, only wearing pants and nothing else. It was so dark last night he hadn't noticed his place was a mess. On the floor beneath him laid articles of clothing and a bottle of extra virgin coconut oil, dripping lightly, as the cap wasn't screwed in properly. Lavi snatched the phone he had brought when he saw it being stained by the oil, softening the box and making it greasy.

"Fuck," he cussed and clicked his tongue, rubbing the box on his pants to dry it, scrutinizing the silver 'Samsung Galaxy S II' embossed on the front. That was a waste of money, Lavi thought, now that he knew Kanda didn't need a new handset. He cleaned up the bedside floor before doing anything else.

The clock reached was almost six o'clock when Kanda began to stir from his sleep. He groaned lowly, basking in the warmth of the sheets.

Lavi almost laughed, reaching to stroke Kanda's black hair. He knew the older man was half-awake and offered, "Want me to make breakfast?"

"Mmm," Kanda groaned again as he rolled over away from Lavi. He was awake now, but the air was so cold and the blankets gave him the most fantastic warmth. He tried going back to sleep but winced when Lavi kissed the back of his neck, planting kisses all the way up to the corners of his mouth.

Kanda growled, pushing the man away with his elbow, "Go away, your breath stinks."

"Of course it does, so it can wake you," Lavi teased, smirking. Kanda roofed the rest of himself with the cappuccino-colored blanket, making him look like a cocoon. "I'll make breakfast. You have class, dontcha?"

When Kanda heard the bed creak because of Lavi standing up, he moaned and stretched into a sitting position, missing the heat of the comforters. He had class at eight, and when he saw the clock and realized it was barely even six in the morning, he went back to sleep.

Lavi slid on the bathrobe that was laying on the floor before walking to the kitchen—which wasn't so far from the bedroom, since his apartment was one big weirdly-angled room. A few steps to the left and he was in the kitchen. Now Lavi wasn't the breakfast type. He would wake up either too late or too early for breakfast. So cooking one was an utterly different feeling. Glancing over to the counters, his functioning jade-green eye caught Kanda's handmade recipe book, giving it a slight skim to get ideas. He came across a simple omelette recipe that did not require any complicated folding—an _omelette lyonnaise_, or in simpler terms, a flat omelette. Ingredients were required no frilled; eggs, onions, butter, except maybe for the red wine vinegar, which Lavi luckily had the chance to buy last week, as he remembered his chef instructors saying it was a staple condiment in French households.

Disliking the quietness, Lavi turned on a radio that was on top of his fridge before proceeding, randomly tuning into a station clear enough to understand. It seems he was stuck on a radio station playing nothing but classics when Jean Sablon's '_Je sais que vous êtes jolie'_ came into play.

He scavenged his cabinets and fridge for the requirements and placed all of them on the counters, and starting off by cutting onions. He liked red onions as it was very sweet, so he readied five red onions as opposed to three. Lavi would usually cut onions in half, and then going crazy from there, since it was easier to cut halved ones. He chopped the red tearjerkers until they piled up as big as a science project volcano.

He pitched the only non-stick pan he owned on the stove next and melted butter on it, throwing in the onions, stirring it frequently so as to prevent burning. About fifteen minutes later, the onions began to shrink and release liquid. Lavi, on the other hand, was tearing up as much as the onions. He got used to caramelizing onions when he practiced making a French onion soup so another ten minutes later, the onions were evenly caramelized. He turned off the heat and let it cool.

Next, the eggs. It was a good thing that the yolk didn't have to be intact. And so after awesomely failing to crack eggs onto a bowl, breaking every single yolk, the redhead poured in fourth of a cup of heavy cream, sprinkled the usual salt and pepper, and whisked it. He poured the creamy, yellowish liquid onto the pan with onions and cooked it for a few more minutes, making sure to make the top part still a bit runny.

Lavi slid the well-done omelette onto a large plate and took a small bite. In his mouth, the first taste was blandness, so he took a portion with a lot onions, and suddenly the sweetness waded through his taste buds. Last but not least, he drizzled it with the wine vinegar by shaking a bottle of Vilux _vinaigre de vin rouge_, giving the flat omelette a splash of Venetian red. Another small bite with the vinegar and suddenly it was the best omelette he had ever tasted. Unless Kanda cooked one for him, in which case, _that_ would be the best omelette he had ever tasted.

He had just opened the windows to make way for the heat when Kanda came striding into the kitchen, sneezing once before making eye contact with Lavi. The taller man stopped whatever he was doing and let his photographic eyes absorb the image of Kanda wearing an oversized New York Giants jersey, his hair down and disheveled, his legs exposed to the frigid Parisian morning, china doll skin so flawlessly perfect against the soft daybreak light.

His mortification increasing, Kanda noticed his gawking and glared at him. "What are _you_ looking at, dumbass?"

The red-haired man with reddening cheeks averted his gaze back to the table setting. "Nothing. I'm glad to see you walking." Unbeknownst to Lavi, Kanda was on the brink of a bad joint cramp, particularly on the hips. "You okay now?"

"No. Just be careful next—" Kanda stopped, wanting to kill himself for being careless with his words.

Lavi smirked at him. He wanted to tease the mortified man. "Sure, I'll be careful _next time_."

"There isn't going to be a next time!"

"If you say so," Lavi replied with a tune and smirk, provoking Kanda a bit more. He thought it was adorable how Kanda could go from a scary, vicious, yakuza boss to a nervous, blushing virgin.

Kanda ignored him and proceeded to seat himself, hearing Lavi's snickers. What happened between them wasn't the mind-blowing sex people liked to brag about, it was something along the lines of 'love making' instead of just 'sex'. At least that was what Lavi liked to affectionately call it.

"Flat omelette," Kanda said when he saw it on the table.

A bottle of Pinot Noir he had bought weeks ago was taken out by Lavi when the radio continued its sequence of French classics, letting out a famous accordion intro, then the powerful voice of Édith Piaf, resonating splendidly throughout the kitchen. When the chorus of _La Vie en Rose _came up, Lavi hummed along with it, knowing nothing but the melody, pouring the red wine onto two glasses.

"Taste it," Lavi urged, sliding into a folding chair across Kanda, pointing at the egg meal with his eye.

And he did. Lavi watched him impale the omelette with a fork and slowly put it to his mouth. It was soft and had a perfect texture. When he bit on an onion, it the sweetness came out, and the vinegar made it seem a little more woody, and kind of fruity. Kanda wanted to be honest this time. "It's great."

The man across him smiled before tasting the food himself. They ate wordlessly, the songs from the radio the only one echoing, until Lavi spoke. He started with a gentle smile, "You know, you're like an _omelette lyonnaise_."

Kanda looked up, fork pausing in mid-air. He gave up in a second. He asked, "Okay, why?"

"It's kind of bland. And even _with_ the onions, it had a tang that I didn't particularly like. But with more red onions and more wine vinegar, it became really sweet and easy on the tongue." Kanda couldn't figure out how he had any relation with what Lavi said. With no trace of dishonesty in his voice, Lavi continued, "Just like you. I didn't get you when we first met. But you warmed up to me, which I've heard is very rare. I'm like the onions that made you sweet, dontcha think?"

Lavi's words caused Kanda to swallow his food a wee bit too early, choking slightly. He couldn't get himself to look Lavi in the eye.

"What about me? What am I like?" the mischievous man asked back. "Aside from red onions."

It took seconds before Kanda could come up at anything. Noticing the bottle of red wine Lavi had pulled out earlier, he answered with a stutter, "Y-You're like Pinot Noir."

"Why?" Lavi was interested what he would say.

"Not just any Pinot Noir," He said, dissing the one Lavi had bought. "A Robert Mondavi one." He shifted on his seat and repeated in a softer voice, "A Robert Mondavi Pinot Noir."

It was Lavi's turn to be confused. "I don't get it."

"You don't have to."

Lavi just beamed at him and ate another forkful. "I'll figure it out soon enough," He vowed, reminding himself to visit his old friend Florian in Del Rey Wine and Spirits.

After breakfast, Lavi insisted he'd clean up the dishes, since it was his place after all. He went and cleared up the rest of their mess in the bed area, oil spill and such, once again taking note of the phone he had bought for Kanda. When the student chef saw him holding the box, he snatched it away from his hands and held it protectively, a tad bit confused as to why it was covered half in oil.

"I'm using it," Kanda said, his blue eyes staring back with resolve. He wasn't saying it because of the guilt, instead he wanted something he'd treasure profoundly, and because it was given exclusively to him by someone he cared about.

Lavi shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. "You don't have to force yourself."

"I want to use it. You gave it to me, so it's mine. I can do whatever I want with it."

"What about your current phone?"

"I'll give it to Daisya. He always wanted mine anyway."

Lavi was touched. Kanda could really be sweet sometimes. "Aw, you really do love me," he teased with a chuckle.

"No, you stupid fuck," Kanda was quick to respond. Lavi only laughed harder. His denial was too obvious.

Then, Kanda decided to get ready. Stupidly, he realized a little later that he had left his chef uniform still unwashed and dirty in Lavi's bathroom. Lavi suggested using his since he wasn't using it anymore. Marching over to the closet, he easily found the uniform he had used during his short time in the culinary program. He presented it to Kanda.

"Isn't it a little big?"

"I dunno. We're the same size, aren't we? I think it has longer sleeves or something," Lavi said, offering it to the other man. Kanda seemed to approve of the idea.

"I'm taking a bath. I smell like… coconut," Kanda said, taking a whiff of himself and blushing.

"I pay the water bills. You should save water and shower with me."

"I'd rather pay."

When Kanda was ready to go, Lavi handed him the spare key to the condominium and forcefully made Kanda promise he'd duplicate another one for his keeping. Afterwards, he escorted Kanda up until the Ségur Métro station and bid each other a sweet, satisfied goodbye with Lavi shouting out, "I'll text you!" And when the black-haired man went all the way down the stairs heading to the trains, Lavi hurried back to his place and stopped over at Del Rey Wine and Spirits, the neighboring wine shop.

"Old man!" Lavi called out as soon as he got. The man being called popped out from a door and behind the register.

"Oh, Lavi. What brings you here?" the seventy-two-year-old owner of Del Rey Wine and Spirits said. Ever since Lavi's sudden breakdown during that time he found Kanda's key in his jacket, the man, Florian, became a friend of Lavi's.

"What's Robert Mondavi?" he asked, breaths a little erratic because of running.

The old man clapped his hands once and bent down to get an exemplary bottle. He spoke with a heavy accent and as he skimmed through the wine racks, "Robert Mondavi… it is strange you do not know of this man. They make best French wine, despite not being French!" He followed with a croaky laugh. "Wait until you taste one of their wine, I doubt you ever want to drink any other."

"What's so special about it?" Lavi asked, noting the old man's words. For a man who lived in France for seventy-two years, his English was good.

"Aha!" Florian exclaimed as he held a bottle of 2001 Mondavi Fumé Blanc like it was the Holy Grail itself. "It is barrel fermented, soaked in fine oak. You can never taste anything like it! _Voilà_, have a taste."

"No thanks, I can't afford something like that," Lavi declined, shaking his hands in front of him. He just wanted to know what Kanda had meant when he compared him to a Robert Mondavi Pinot Noir.

"Why do you ask about Mondavi wine?" the elder asked out of the blue, letting Lavi touch the light-colored bottle, making it look lime green through the sunlight.

"Nothing. I was wondering if they had some trademark or company slogan." He gave the bottle back.

"Well, they like putting the words on their wine corks. Let me show you one." He bent down again and rummaged the wine racks. "I have an opened Mondavi Pinot Noir yesterday. Ah, here it is. It is mine so it's okay to take a taste."

Lavi took the new bottle, this time it was black and a white label, with the sophisticated 'Pinot Noir' printed on it. He opened it and pulled the cork. That little wine shop was surely an abode of surprises when Lavi's heart burst with emotion, for the second time in that same location. Words were imprinted on the wine cork:

"_A meal without wine is like a day without sunshine –Robert Mondavi_."

* * *

**A/N: asdfghjkl; that was so long. I didn't expect it to be that long! Holy crap. I initially wrote _that_ scene very detailed (still got it saved on my iPad with the filename 'thisisnotporn') but yeah it turned out like too porn-ish so I kind of made it vague and flowery since this is a light-hearted story with a light-hearted plot.**

**Sorry, this chapter's really long. It just dragged on and on. I was having too much fun. I'm writing a new fic btw, set in 1948, my favorite era :)**

**Again! Thanks for every thing! The messages, the faves, it really makes me happy :) Leave a message anywhere! I'm pretty much dahliadenoire all over the internets.**


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